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CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FAOB 

THE  BASIS  OF  MUSICAL  PLEASURE 

I.    The  Power  of  Tone    ...  3 

II.    Form    ; 11 

III.  Association  .....  39 

IV.  Symbolisation       ....  49 
V.     Tonal   and   Mental   Parallelism  92 

VI.    Conclusion   .         .         .         .         .117 

Appendices   .         .         .         .         .127 

THE  OPERA  PROBLEM    .  .  .  .143 

THE    EXPRESSION    OF    EMOTIONS    IN 

MUSIC 169 


The   Basis   of  Musical    Pleasure 


PREFACE 

THE  following  chapters  grew  out  of  a 
series  of  lectures  delivered  at  the  Col- 
lege for  Women,  Western  Reserve 
University,  during  the  autumn  of  1900.  Many- 
changes  have  since  been  made  in  the  plan  of 
the  work.  The  original  intention  was  to 
elucidate  the  nature  of  a  single  and  supreme 
fountain  of  musical  pleasure.  While  the  au- 
thor still  believes  that  there  is  such  a  unique 
source  of  delight — or  it  may  be  a  unique 
combination  of  sources — where  the  pleasure 
aroused  by  the  art  is  genuine  and  intense,  the 
determination  of  this  element  is  hopeless  in 
the  present  state  of  knowledge.  Hence  an 
adherence  to  the  original  plan  would  be  largely 
negative  in  character,  one  theory  after  another 
being  rejected  and  no  positive  conclusion 
being  established.  It  was  deemed  better, 
accordingly,  to  confine  the  inquiry  to  an  enu- 
meration and  description  of  the  actual  sources 
of  musical  pleasure,  reserving  a  determination 


vi  Preface 

of  what  is  secondary  and  what  is  essential  to 
later  insight. 

In  considering  the  theories  which  have  been 
offered  to  explain  the  musical  mystery,  there 
is  no  pretension  to  be  exhaustive  ;  however, 
the  more  familiar  and  representative  views 
are  included. 

In  the  essay  on  The  Expression  of  Emotions 
in  Music,  the  author  believes  he  has  solved  a 
controversy  which  for  half  a  century  has 
vexed  the  thoughts  and  stirred  the  passions 
of  musical  theorists.  As  the  question  involved 
in  this  controversy  is  a  simple  one,  it  seems 
plausible  that  the  irreconcilable  divergences  of 
opinion  which  we  find  are  due,  as  indicated 
in  the  text,  to  differences  in  the  way  of  con- 
ceiving the  subject.  The  article  is  reprinted 
from  the  Philosophical  Review  with  the  kind 
permission  of  the  editor. 


The 
Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


THE  POWER  OF  TONE 

WHEREIN  lies  the  peculiar  power  and 
charm  of  music  ?     What  is  its  inner- 
most nature  and  meaning?     What 
enables  it  to  lift  us  out  of  the  prosaic  atmos- 
phere of  everyday  life  and  carry  us  into  purer, 
ideal  realms  of  being  ? 

When  we  are  moved  by  the  events  of  a 
tragedy  or  admire  a  beautiful  statue,  it  is 
not  difficult  to  give  a  proximate  explanation 
of  our  emotion.  What  we  see  represents 
aspects  of  life  which,  if  experienced  directly, 
would  produce  the  same  effects.  It  moves 
us  by  imitating  what  would  move  us  in  real 
life.     The   enchanting   tones   of    the  pianist, 


4        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

however,  are  ^yithout  apparent  relation  to  the 
world  of  experience.  They  are  as  devoid  of 
significance  as  the  puddle  of  water  which 
Mr.  Lindsey,  in  Hawthorne's  Snow  Image, 
finds  before  the  stove:  but  the  puddle  con- 
tained a  merry,  elfish  figure;  and  the  tones 
are  capable  of  bearing  us  aloft,  to  the 
home  of  beauty  and  inspiration.  What  is 
the  secret  of  their  power,  the  explanation  of 
their  appealing  charm  ? 

This  is  the  problem  to  be  examined  in  the 
following  pages.  It  will  be  our  purpose  to 
consider  some  of  the  more  important  theories 
which  have  been  proposed  for  its  solution, 
exposing  what  is  faulty  in  them  and  retaining 
what  is  valuable.  These  theories  may  be 
subsumed  under  five  headings,  according  to 
the  principles  they  invoke  in  explanation.  We 
may  seek  for  the  charm  of  music  in  its  ele- 
rnentary  effect^  its  formal  elaboration,  its 
associations^  its  symbolistic  properties,  and 
its  agreement  with  the  operations  of  the  mind. 
Although  all  of  these  factors  contribute  to  the 
result,  we  are  not  as  yet  able  to  unite  them 
into  a  complete  system.  Like  the  diggers 
of  a  tunnel,  we  may  approach  the  question 
from  various  sides  and  burrow  a  little  into  its 


The  Power  of  Tone  5 

mysterious  depths,  but  it  will  be  long  before  a 
junction  can  be  effected,  yielding  a  satisfactory 
explanation.  Notwithstanding  the  present 
hopelessness  of  success,  however,  we  shall 
penetrate  as  far  as  possible  into  each  particu- 
lar inlet,  and  bring  to  light  what  we  find. 

First  let  us  consider  the  elementary  power 
of  tone.  Mere  tones  by  themselves,  together 
with  simple  combinations,  exert  an  influence 
on  sensibility  which  seems  to  baffle  further 
analysis,  and  which  can  onl}^  be  explained  as 
a  direct,  physiological  reaction  of  the  nerves. 
Hanslick,  Lazarus,  and  Sully  give  considerable 
prominence  to  this  species  of  effectiveness. 
Tone,  timbre,  mass  of  sound,  elementary 
harmony  and  melody,  movement,  and  rhythm 
are  some  of  the  factors  which  are  supposed  to 
contribute  to  it.  With  certain  qualifications 
these  authors  are  right.  A  beautiful  tone 
caresses  the  ear.  Peculiarities  of  timbre  are 
physiologically  effective:  witness  the  oboe, 
violin,  trumpet,  cymbals,  and  drum.  Great 
masses  of  sound  too — from  the  organ,  chorus, 
or  orchestra — operate  similarly.  The  same 
is  true  of  the  motion  involved  in  musical 
passages,  especially  of  their  rhythm.  And 
finally    wc    may    include    the    beginnings    of 


y 


6        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

melody  and  harmony  in  this  effect.  For 
purely  physiological  reasons  the  interval  of  an 
octave  sounds  better  than  that  of  a  second. 
What  is  true  of  simultaneous  intervals  may 
also,  as  Helmholtz  has  shown,  be  applied  to 
successive  ones.  Melody,  accordingly,  has 
the  same  physiological  basis  as  harmony. 

Here  we  approach  the  limitations  of  our 
subject.  We  must  be  careful  not  to  include 
any  of  the  higher,  more  specific  musical 
charm  in  this  species  of  effectiveness.  Sully's 
unqualified  use  of  terms,  in  referring  the 
delight  of  harmony  and  melody  to  physio- 
logical sources,  is  liable  to  lead  to  this  error. ^ 
What  he  calls  harmony  is  nothing  more  than 
consonance.  But  consonance  and  harmony 
are  by  no  means  identical.  In  the  more 
usual  sense,  consonance  only  applies  to  the 
simultaneous  union  of  two  tones.  Harmony, 
on  the  other  hand,  includes  any  number  of 
elements  and,  what  is  more  important,  com- 
bines the  resulting  formations  into  a  sequence 
^  of  chords.  Physiological  laws  are  utterly 
unable  to  account  for  the  resulting  pleasure. 
The  triad  already  contains  elements  of  charm 

1  Sully,  "The  Basis  of  Musical  Sensation,"  in  Sensation 
and  Intuition,  London,  1880,  p.  170. 


The  Power  of  Tone  7 

which  transcend  the  lower  plane.  The  minor 
chord  involves  a  more  or  less  evident  contrast 
to  the  major,  and  its  dreamy  weirdness  leads 
one  to  surmise  the  presence  of  psychical 
factors.  The  succession  of  chords  openly 
leads  into  the  domain  of  form.  A  sequence 
of  tonic  and  dominant  harmonies,  to  go  no 
further,  generates  an  impression  of  balanced 
opposition,  the  tonic  representing  the  positive 
element,  the  dominant  standing  for  the  nega- 
tive. What  is  true  of  harmony  applies  with 
still  greater  force  to  melody.  The  mere 
succession  of  the  notes  C-G  (in  the  key  of  C) 
involves  an  opposition  Hke  that  of  the  chords 
just  mentioned.  The  essential  principle  of 
melody,  accordingly,  is  formal  in  nature,  i 
physiological  effectiveness  dwindling  to  in- 
significance. 

Whereas  some  of  the  pleasure,  then,  which  >L 
might  be  attributed  to  nervous  reaction 
belongs  to  form,  another  portion  falls  under 
the  heading  of  symbolisation  and  extraneous 
association.  Associations  intrude  into  the 
most  elementary  experiences.  Simple  colours! 
owe  some  of  their  effectiveness  to  suggestion. 
Odours  please  through  the  subconscious  mem- 
ories   evoked.     It    may    be    impossible,    at, 


8        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

times,  to  detect  the  mental  factors;  we  may 
seem  to  be  immersed  in  bald  sensation,  incapa- 
ble of  analysis;  yet  associations  may  be 
present.  Musical  sounds,  too,  are  effective 
through  suggestion.  An  expressive  tone  on 
the  violin  may  recall  a  human  voice,  a  plain- 
tive wail  from  the  oboe  remind  us  of  pastoral 
f/  scenes ;  the  organ  fills  the  mind  with  religious 
awe,  the  trumpet  arouses  martial  ardour. 
Furthermore,  the  deeper  sort  of  pleasure 
seems  actually  to  spring  into  being  with  the 
significance.  It  is  when  we  recognise  a  fervent 
appeal  in  the  voice,  when  the  burst  of  sound 
in  the  orchestra  reminds  us  of  cosmic  energies, 
when  the  female  chorus  suggests  angelic 
hymns,  that  we  are  stirred  to  the  depths  of 
our  being.  Considered  merely  as  auditory 
sensations,  the  tones  retain  a  certain  neu- 
j  traHty ;  regarded  as  embodiments  of  nature 
/and  life,  they  gain  expressive  warmth. 
"  AH  this  is  corroborated  by  direct  experience. 
We  feel  the  thrills  the  very  moment  that  we 
recognise  the  significance.  But  significance 
may  be  present  even  when  we  are  not  aware 
of  it.  The  word  ghoul  is  among  the  most 
expressive  in  the  English  language,  its  weird- 
ness  being   felt   even  by  those  who   do  not 


The  Power  of  Tone  9 

know  its  meaning.  What  is  the  explanation 
of  this  fact?  There  are  only  a  few  words  in 
the  language  that  begin  with  the  letters  gh; 
and  among  these  the  commonest  are  ghost  and 
ghastly.  Whereas  the  first  letters  of  the 
word  thus  remind  us  of  these  grewsome  parts 
of  speech,  the  last  ones  suggest  foul  and  owl. 
Unconsciously,  therefore,  ghoul  epitomises 
all  these  uncanny  things.  That  this  is  the 
true  explanation,  and  that  the  sound  of  the 
word  is  of  but  little  consequence,  is  proved  by 
changing  the  spelling  from  ghoul  to  gool. 
The  first  part  of  the  word  now  agrees  with 
goose,  while  the  last  part  reminds  us  of  fool. 
And  in  fact  the  word  has  a  ridiculous  conno- 
tation that  may  well  be  characterised  as  a 
synthesis  of  the  edible  fowl  and  the  gullible 
human  being. 

We  may  conclude,  accordingly,  that  much 
of  the  tonal  effect  which  passes  as  physio-; 
logical  in  nature  is  really  traceable  to  higher 
sources.  While  we  agree  with  the  authors 
cited  that  there  is  a  certain  effectiveness 
attaching  to  the  material  of  the  art,  we  hold 
that  its  scope  must  be  considerably  restricted. 
It  is  doubtful  whether  the  impressions  which 
an  uneducated  lad  might  receive  at  a  concert 


lo        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

would,  as  Sully  believes,  be  "  little  more  than 
a  variety  of  sensations,  delightful  or  painful 
in  different  degrees,  the  grounds  of  which  he 
is  wholly  unable  to  give  us''^ ;  even  the  most 
untutored  youngster  would  very  likely  appre- 
ciate certain  fragments  of  melody  and  feel 
the  mysterious  significance  of  some  of  the 
tones.  Nor  can  we  agree  with  Hanslick 
when  he  ascribes  the  vague  emotional  effect 
of  a  composition  to  "the  physical  properties 
of  sound,  the  greater  part  of  which  is  gov- 
erned by  physiological  \si-ws."  ^  Physiological 
effectiveness  is  merely  the  substratum  of 
musical  delight.  Before  it  can  yield  higher 
pleasure  it  must  be  elaborated  into  formal 
beauties  and  enriched  with  memories  and 
symbolisations.  It  is  to  the  formal  elabo- 
j  ration  that  we  shall  first  turn. 

1     »  op.  cit.,  p.  163. 

2  The  Beautiful  in  Music,  London  and  New  York,  1891, 
p.  128.  The  original  German  reads  "zur  guten  Halfte 
physiologischen  Gesetzen  folgt. "  In  another  respect,  too, 
the  sense  has  not  been  reproduced  accurately.  According 
to  Hanslick  it  is  the  emotional  effect  which  is  largely  gov- 
erned by  physiological  laws,  whereas  the  translation  would 
lead  one  to  believe  that  the  physical  properties  of  sound  were 
meant.  So  far  as  our  conclusion  is  concerned,  the  ambiguity 
is  of  no  consequence. 


II 

FORM 

BY  reason  of  their  overlapping,  it  is  im- 
possible to  give  an  exhaustive,  sym- 
metrical view  of  the  formal  aspects  of 
music.  Perhaps  as  good  a  plan  of  division  as 
any  may  be  based  on  the  properties  of  tone, 
— fprce^  pitch,_timbre,  and  duration. 

Force  gives  us  fluctuations  of  intensity. 
Loud  passages  may  be  relieved  by  soft  ones, 
soft  ones  by  loud.  Gentle  sections  may  be 
arrested  by  sudden  fortissimo  shocks,  ener- 
getic movements  interrupted  for  a  moment  by 
pianissimo  whisperings.  Subdued  progres- 
sions may  gradually  swell  into  emphatic 
utterance,  powerful  beginnings  die  away  into 
evanescence. 

Timbre   yields   the   contrasts   of   different  ^' 
voices  and  instruments.     Simultaneously,  any 
vocal  or  orchestral  member  may  unite  with 
any  number  of  its  fellows,  any  class  of  instru- 


12        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

ments  join  one  or  more  coordinate  divisions. 
Successively,  the  contrasts  are  more  varied 
still.  In  an  orchestral  waltz,  Tschaikowsky 
even  changes  his  instrtiments  with  every 
beat  of  the  measure. 

Duration  may  be  considered  under  three 

I    headings : 

I  I.  Tempo. 

2.  Measure  and  rhythm. 

3.  Musical  form. 

r^  Tempo  depends  on  the  prevailing  rapidity 
y^th  which  tones  succeed  one  another.  In 
serial  compositions,  like  the  symphony,  the 
V  movements  are  contrasted  especially  in  tempo. 
Within  a  composition  the  tempo  as  a  rule 
remains  unchanged,  but  gradual  accelerations 
and  retardations  of  speed,  corresponding  to 
the  fluctuations  of  force,  are  common. 

Measure  and  rhythm  demand  more  exact 
determinations.  Measure  deals  with  the  regu- 
lar recurrence  of  beats,  indicated  by  the 
signatures  f,  J,  f,  and  so  forth.  Rhythm 
has  to  do  with  the  grouping  of  successive 
tones.  A  single  beat  may  hold  several  notes, 
a  single  note  cover  several  beats:  rhythm 
determines  the  distribution  and  grouping  of 
the  notes  with  reference  to  the  beats.     The 


Form  13 

rhythm  may  agree  or  disagree  with  the 
measure.  There  is  agreement  when  the  notes 
coincide  with  the  beats,  disagreement  when 
the  beats  are  left  empty,  or  when  the  notes 
are  wrongly  accented,  a  weak  beat  having  an 
accented  note  or  a  strong  beat  one  which  is 
unemphasised. 

The  units  involved  in  measure  and  rhythm 
are  tones  and  measures ;  but  several  bars  may 
also  be  united  into  larger  groupings.  According 
to  a  common  arrangement,  every  four  or  eight 
measures  are  marked  ofif  into  phrases;  phrases 
are  united  into  periods,  periods  into  primary 
forms,  and  primary  forms  into  larger  organisms.    1 
The  combination  of  smaller  into  more  extensive   , 
systems  is  the  subject  of  Musical  Form,  in  the  ] 
specific  sense  of  the  word ;  which  is  analogous  ] 
in   many    respects    to    the   arrangement    of  { 
structural  parts  in  architecture. 

Pitch  is  the  most  complex  of  the  factors. 
It  may  be  considered  with  reference  to 

1.  Melody,  and 

2.  Harmony. 

The  tones  of  the  scale  are  characterised 
by  qualitative  differences  in  accordance  with 
which  we  call  one  higher  or  lower  than  another. 
In  the  chromatic  scale  the  differences  between 


14        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

contiguous  tones  are  all  equal.  The  resulting 
ladder-like  arrangement  gives  rise  to  geo- 
metrical dispositions  in  scales,  arpeggios,  skips, 
and  composite  figures.  But  this  is  not  the 
most  important  feature  of  pitch.  The  oc- 
tave, at  the  further  end  of  the  scale,  is  more 
closely  related  to  the  fundamental  than  the 
second;  the  third,  but  two  notes  away,  more 
distantly  than  the  fifth.  There  are  peculiar 
relations  of  pitch,  indeed,  which  defy  exact 
designation  and  are  only  to  be  accepted  at 
i  their  face- value.  Owing  to  this  fact  melody 
is  not  open  to  explanation.  A  series  of  taps 
on  the  snare-drum  produces  a  rhythmical 
succession,  without  pitch ;  the  wild,  haphazard 
chase  of  sounds  from  the  belfry  gives  us 
pitch,  without  rhythm:  melody  unites  the 
two.  The  rhythm,  of  course,  is  amenable 
to  exact  description,  as  is  the  general  grouping 
into  phrases  and  periods;  but  the  more  inti- 
mate nature  of  the  melody,  depending  on 
the  value  of  the  different  intervals,  and  on 
the  peculiar  combination  of  intervals  and 
rhythms,  cannot  at  present  be  dissected. 

Somewhat  more  open  to  treatment  is  the 
simultaneous  union  of  intervals  into  har- 
monies or  chords.     Definite  rules  have  been 


Form  15 

formulated  to  which  the  grouping  must 
conform;  furthermore,  it  has  been  discovered 
that  the  combinations  which  are  most  pleas- 
ing, or  consonances,  contain  the  tones  which 
are  harboured  by  the  fundamental  note  as 
partials.  The  sequence  of  chords  is  not  so 
rigidly  governed.  Among  the  contrasts  em- 
bodied, imparting  life  and  interest,  are  those 
between 

1.  Major  and  minor  harmonies. 

2.  Consonances  and  dissonances. 

3.  Fundamental  and  secondary  chords. 

4.  The  established  and  foreign  keys. 
The  most  important  of  these  is  the  third.  A 
piece  usually  begins  with  the  fundamental 
harmony,  keeps  reverting  to  it,  and  settles 
upon  it  at  the  end  as  a  point  of  rest.  The 
commonest  of  the  alternating  chords,  which 
may  be  regarded  as  the  opposite  of  the  fun- 
damental harmony,  is  the  dominant,  built 
on  the  fifth  of  the  scale.  The  subdominant, 
based  on  the  fourth,  also  embodies  a  certain 
opposition.  The  other  harmonies,  however, 
cannot  be  explained  in  such  simple  terms. 
They  seem  to  shoot  off  into  various  dimen- 
sions; they  are  qualitatively  different,  and  in 
describing  it  is  only  possiV^lc  to  name  them. 


i6        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

not  to  reduce  their  peculiar  relations  to  lower 
terms. 

In  addition  to  the  factors  already  mentioned 
there  are  several  others  which  cannot  be 
,  included  under  any  single  heading.  Coun- 
terpoint refers  to  the  simultaneous  progression 
of  several  voices  of  a  melodic  character.  The- 
matic work  has  to  do  with  the  transformation 
and  variation  of  musical  figures  or  themes. 
A  group  of  tones  can  be  played  in  longer 
or  shorter  notes,  reversed,  expanded  or  com- 
pressed through  the  use  of  different  inter- 
vals, imitated  rhythmically,  or  embellished  by 
the  insertion  of  additional  notes.  Classic  mu- 
sic, especially,  is  rich  in  thematic  treatment. 
Finally  we  may  mention  the  contrast  between 
staccato  and  legato,  the  former  resulting  from 
a  short,  precise  rendition,  every  tone  standing 
by  itself,  separate  from  the  others;  and  the 
latter  demanding  a  smooth  connection,  one 
tone  being  sustained  until  its  successor  is 
played. 

Having  enumerated  the  individual  elements, 
let  us  consider  their  combination  and  inter- 
play. Eight  measures  from  the  introduction 
of  Schubert's  C  major  symphony  will  serve 
as  an  illustration : 


Form 


17 


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-^i — » 


i 


aI-J- 


^ 


jg=^ 


=^=^ 


^ 


j 


n? 


X  j  ji 


s  —  s  = 


J 


^^ 


^ 


f 


Though  apparently  clear  and  simple,  these 
measures  embody  an  endless  wealth  of  com- 
plexity. There  is  the  instrumental  contrast 
between  the  upper  and  lower  voices,  the 
former  being  played  by  the  wood- wind,  the 
latter  by  the  strings.  There  is  the  staccato  of 
the  bass  and  tenor,  opposed  to  the  legato  of  the 
alto  and  soprano.  To  illustrate  this  contrast 
graphically,  we  may  adopt  the  device  actually 
employed  in  musical  notation  and  incor- 
porated in  the  example,  of  designating  the 
former  by  dots  and  the  latter  by  slurs,  thus 


i8        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


giving  an  approximate  picture  of  the  effect. 
The  instrumental  contrast  may  be  indicated 
by  different  shading : 


The  rhythmical  structure  is  aptly  illus- 
trated by  means  of  single  lines  for  the  various 
voices : 

J    J  J, J- /J    ,i^J    ,J    J  J 


J    J  J 


J  J  J-/ 


J  J  J  s: 


Mj^j- 


rcr 


T^^r^ 


r-*-nr 


-J-  /J 
J  J  J-  /I 


J  J  J 


4. 


rrr 


tr 


r  f  r  r 


r  "  r  '^ 


Form 


19 


The  internal  grouping,   as  determined  by 
the  melody,  can  be  indicated  as  follows : 


As  is  apparent,  the  passage  consists  of  two 
parts,  a^  and  a^,  the  former  comprising  three 
measures,  the  latter  five.  A^  has  two  divi- 
sions, a^  has  three.  B\  b\  and  ¥  contain 
two  measures  each,  b^  and  6^,  one.  Every 
measure,  again,  has  two  equal  halves,  and 
every  half  two  equal  beats. 

The  groupings  of  the  remaining  voices  agree 
neither  with  each  other  nor  with  the  soprano : 


_;:z- 


*: 


e 


^-#- 


E^ 


IfZZZfe 


^^ 


^m 


:^=p= 


3^» 


^ 


=r^-»- 


■* :^ 


_^ 


^f^z 


r^^ 


20        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


^ 


^ 


^ 


^ — •- 


4   pf  ^ 


W^ 


^^ 


S 


•         s. 


^ 


The  geometrical  aspect  of  the  voices,  or 
the  direction  of  their  motion,  is  roughly 
expressible  like  this: 


-^ 


Next  come  the  harmonic  relations.  The 
contrasts  of  major  and  minor  can  be  expressed 
with  the  help  of  two  staves,  the  chords  ruled 
by  the  major  spirit  being  placed  above,  those 
bv  the  minor  beneath: 


Form 


21 


m 


Major 

4-    ■ 


^ 


-^-t^ 


^   ^   < 


m 


^ 


^  -0-  ^ 


Minor 


3^ 


:i;^ 


8*^    *g'# 


J»   J  J 


^ 


S^i^S 


i^ 


etc, 


af=:1 


^ 


f^ 


^ 


■^ — # 


The  alternations  of  consonance  and  disso- 
nance may  be  indicated  in  the  same  manner : 

Consonance ,  i  | 


M 


m 


s 


1^ 


Dissonance 


^ 


i 


^ 


r 


+H ^ ? 


^^rf-^ 


I 


etc. 


«jp 


CT 


2  2        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


Finally  we  have  the  alternations  of  tonality 
and  non-tonality,  or  the  presence  and  absence 
of  the  tonic  chord: 

Tonic  Harmonies 


:^=5 


#— (ML 


^ 


Non-tonic  Ha 


r^ 


i 


s 


5 


n=m 


:^ 


# 


i^ 


d=fci 


^=^^3 


etc. 


m 


'^m 


*=^ 


^#=Tt 


There  are  no  changes  of  key,  no  variations 
of  force  or  tempo,  and  no  thematic  work. 
Counterpoint  is  present,  but  requires  no 
separate  scheme,  as  it  is  partly  represented 
in  the  diagrams  of  rhythm,  grouping,  and 
direction,  and  as  its  remaining  aspects — 
depending  on  pitch — are  incapable  of  exact 
representation.  If  we  now  crowd  all  the 
various  schemes  together  and  unite  them 
with  the  indescribable  effects  of  pitch  and 
harmony,  we  get  the  actual  progression;  and 


Form  23 

if  any  one  scheme  is  complex, the  combination 
is  infinitely  more  so.  When  we  look  at  these 
different  plans  and  then  imagine  them  pressed 
together  and  mutually  interpenetrating,  we 
cannot  banish  the  thought  of  the  confusion 
which  must  arise ;  yet  the  combination  results 
in  perfect  harmony.  As  in  a  complex  mechan- 
ism, the  various  cogs  and  wheels  all  fit 
together,  no  matter  how  great  their  individual 
diversity. 

This  brings  us  to  the  musical  agreements 
and  disagreements,  which  form  the  soul  of 
the  art.  We  may  classify  them  under^the 
captions  of  rhythmical,  ^structural,  tonic,  and 
harmonic  relations.  Further  headings  are 
possible,  but  these  are  the  most  important. 
Upon  the  first  we  have  already  dwelt.  The 
measure  of  a  piece  may  be  regarded  as  an 
ideal  substructure,  with  which  the  notes  do 
or  do  not  coincide.  Where  every  beat  has 
its  properly  accented  note,  we  may  speak  of 
agreement ;  the  absence  of  notes  or  the  shifting 
of  accents  implies  disagreement. 

By  structural  agreement  we  mean  the 
mutual  correspondence  ot  the  successive  fig- 
tges^ections,  phrases,  and  periods.  Measures 
3-4  of  a  period  as  a  rule  answer  to  measures 


24        The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

1-2,  measures  5-8  to  1-4,  while  the  whole 
period  may  be  a  pendant  to  a  former  group. 
Psychologically  it  is  difficult  to  point  out 
just  where  the  agreements  and  disagreements 
are  located.  Sometimes  both  elements  of 
effect  seem  to  be  combined,  a  certain  abiding 
sense  of  the  correspondence  between  a  sec- 
tion and  its  predecessor  being  interpenetrated 
with  a  craving  for  its  conclusion,  which  in- 
volves dissatisfaction.  At  times  the  sense  of 
agreement  is  strong  at  the  beginning  of  an 
answering  section,  especially  when  the  piece 
is  familiar  and  a  pause  on  the  preceding 
note  generates  an  anticipation  of  its  suc- 
cessor. At  times,  again,  it  is  pronounced  at 
the  conclusion :  the  mind  reviews  the  field  trav- 
ersed and  experiences  complete  satisfaction. 

Modern  compositions  are  based  on  keys. 
Presence  of  the  tonic  or  key  chord  may  be 
designated  as  tonic  agreement,  deviation 
therefrom  as  disagreement.  In  the  case  of 
modulation,  the  new  tonic  is  the  decisive  chord. 

The  harmony  of  a  beat  may  be  pure,  or 
clouded  with  foreign  notes  arising  from 
suspensions,  changing  notes,  and  the  like. 
Purity  would  be  designated  as  agreement, 
impurity    as    its    opposite.     This    antithesis 


Form  25 

answers   closely   to   the   opposition   between 
consonance  and  dissonance. 

While  every  one  of  these  categories  yields 
a  varied  interplay  of  satisfaction  and  dissatis- 
faction, their  union  offers  a  field  for  endless 
permutations  and  combinations.     Rhythmic 
agreement  may  be  accompanied  by  harmonic 
disagreement,  harmonic  and  tonic  agreement 
by  rhythmic  disagreement.      The  end  of  a 
phrase  may  embody   complete   rest,   except 
that  it  is  in  the  dominant  instead  of  the  tonic 
harmony;  hence  the  satisfaction  arising  from 
the  combination  of  rhythmic,  structural,  and      //' 
harmonic  agreement  emphasises  the  tonic  dis- 
agreement,   and  heightens   the   effect  of  the 
final  chord  in  the  next  phrase,  which,  unit- 
ing all  the  factors,  yields  complete  satisfac- 
tion.    In  this  varied  play  of   suspense   and   If 
realisation,  contrast  and  identity,  lies  the  es-  I 
sence  of  music.     This  can  be  verified  in  the 
simplest  folk  song.   The  ever-recurring,  regular 
accents,  the  matching  of  phrases,  the  passage 
from  tonic  to  dominant  and  back  again,  and  ^ 
the  exquisite  coincidence,  of  the  various  factors  ll 
on  the  final  chord,  reconciling  all  the  previous  | 
divergences,  form  the  heart  of  musical  charm. ^  \ 

>  See  Appendix  A. 


26      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

Distinct  contributions  to  our  pleasure  flow 
from  the  contemplation  of  formal  arrangement 
as  sketched  in  the  preceding  pages.  Among 
|the  elements  most  clearly  yielding  delight  are 
jthe  contrasts  of  intensity  and  instrumental 
kimbre;  also  the  structural  division  into 
jphrases,  periods,  and  the  like.  The  majestic 
i'epetition  in  the  full  orchestra  of  a  theme 
Which  has  previously  received  soft  enunciation 
in  the  violins,  is  an  effect  which  never  fails  to 
thrill  the  listener,  old  and  traditional  though 
it  may  be.  The  succession  of  phrases  and 
periods  lies  at  the  very  foundation  of  musical 
pleasure,  imparting  charm  to  the  most  elabo- 
rate symphony  and  the  simplest  dance  tune 
alike.  In  classic  music  the  intricacies  of 
counterpoint  and  thematic  work  perhaps 
come  next.  There  is  a  perennial  source  of 
\  delight  in  the  manifold  combinations  and 
transformations  of  themes;  and  when  these 
factors  are  united  with  variations  of  force, 
speed,  and  instrumental  timbre,  there  results 
a  tissue  of  relations  which  is  unsurpassed  in 
the  entire  realm  of  art.  The  contrasts  of 
major  and  minor,  staccato  and  legato,  together 
with  the  grouping  of  different  keys,  are  also 
distinctly  apprehended.     Rhythmic  relations 


Form  27 

between  the  individual  notes,  alternations  of 
consonance  and  dissonance,  and  of  tonic  and 
non-tonic  chords,  are  clearly  perceived  at 
times ;  but  as  a  rule  they  affect  the  mind^semi-  5" 
consciously,  just  as  the  symmetry  of  a  facade 
is  realised  without  expressly  comparing  the 
length  of  its  sides.  Nevertheless  the  enjoy- 
ment which  they  yield  may  be  classified  under 
the  category  of  form. 

In  spite  of  their  importance,  however,  the 
formal  aspects  of  music  do  not  exhaust  the' 
pleasure  which  the  art  is  capable  of  yielding.'. 
Two  compositions  may  be  equally  interesting 
from  a  formal  point  of  view,  yet  musically  i 
there  may  be  a  vast  difference  between  them.  > 
Indeed,  a  less  elaborate  piece  may  even  out- 
rank a   more   pretentious   one.     The   theme 
of  the  Allegretto  from   Beethoven's  seventh 
symphony  may  be  played  on  the  piano,  thus 
foregoing  the  richness  of  orchestral  timbre;  it 
is  short  and  embodies  no  great  variety  of  inner 
structure ;  its  rhy  th  m  is  simple  almost  to  monot-  \ 
ony ;  it  contains  no  decided  variations  of  force 
or  speed,  and  makes  use  neither  of  counter- 
point nor  intricate  thematic  work;  it  is  sim- 
plicity itself,  containing  only  the  minimum  of 
form,  and  yet  it  is  a  mine  of  genuine  musical 


28       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

value.  The  first  four  measures  of  Schumann's 
Aus  meinen  Thrdnen  spriessen,  the  opening 
bars  of  his  fourth  Nachtstuck,  the  initial  har- 
monies of  the  V or  spiel  to  Par5^/a/,  Luther's  Ein 
feste  Burg,  and  numerous  other  compositions, 
all  prove  that  musical  beauty  and  formal  elab- 
oration are  not  necessarily  convertible  terms. 
To  be  sure,  our  analysis  of  form  may  be 
far  from  complete.  We  have  examined  only 
those  features  which  are  directly  open  to 
investigation,  and  can  be  marked  off  on 
music-paper.  There  is  a  more  delicate  aspect, 
a  musical  histology,  which  corresponds  to  the 
intimate  structure  of  animal  tissues.  Many 
harmonies  which  are  apparently  indivisible 
may  be  resolved  into  double  triads.  Rhyth- 
mic and  melodic  abridgments  are  common, 
and  they  are  so  subtle  in  many  cases  as  to  be 
only  detected  with  difficulty.  Hauptmann 
even  derives  the  single  three-part  measure 
from  the  overlapping  of  two  two-part  unities. 
There  is  a  region  of  intimate  relations,  indeed, 
which  has  not  yet  been  adequately  explored. 
Here  much  of  the  peculiar  "impenetrable" 
effectiveness  of  melody  and  harmony  may 
conceivably  be  found  to  reside.  Acoustic 
I  investigation  has  shown  that  the  single  tone 


Form  29 

is  really  a  subconscious  chord.  So  a  short 
melodic  succession  of  notes,  seemingly  indi- 
visible in  its  effect,  might  turn  out  to  resemble 
a  complete  "form,"  like  the  sonata  or  rondo, 
with  numerous  subdivisions,  contrasts,  simi- 
larities, and  cross-relations.^ 

And  if  form  shrinks,  on  the  one  side,  into 
the  elusively  minute,  it  is  dissipated,  on  the 

>  The  following  may  give  an  idea  of  the  more  delicate 
form  of  analysis: 


i 


-&- 


If  we  try  to  characterise  the  effect  of  these  four  chords, 
we  shall  find  that  the  first  typifies  imdisputed  harmony  of 
elements,  the  second  opposition,  the  third  compromise,  and 
the  fourth  renewed  harmony.  Is  it  possible  to  find  an  ex- 
planation of  this  effect  in  the  constitution  of  the  chords? 
The  harmony  of  the  first  chord  is  clear  enough.  An  exam- 
ination of  the  second  shows  that  the  highest  note  (F),  which 
but  a  moment  ago  was  the  fvmdamental  of  its  chord,  has 
now  become  the  fifth ;  but  the  fifth  has  a  subservient,  vassal- 
like character  (in  spite  of  the  opposition  predicated  of  the 
dominant  on  another  page),  as  its  function  is  to  lead  into 
the  fundamental;  hence  the  sway  of  the  first  chord  is  dis- 
puted, and  a  new  "ruler"  threatens  to  absorb  it.  With 
chord  number  three  there  is  a  mutual  yielding  of  the  con- 
flicting elements:  B  flat  leads  into  C,  F  drops  to  E, — the  two 
combining  to  form  the  body  of  the  dominant.  And  a  moment 
later  both  unite  to  form  the  identical  extremes  of  the  final, 
satisfying  harmony. 

Such  analyses,  if  extended  to  longer  passages,  with  van- 


30      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


other,  in  the  vast  and  intangible.  Besides 
the  interstitial  structure  belonging  to  musical 
histology,  form  includes  the  relations  to  the 
entire  field  of  tonal  art,  i.  e.,  to  all  the  com- 
positions ever  heard.  Let  us  dwell  on  this 
for  a  moment.  The  beauty  and  meaning  of  a 
.  melody  depend  on  the  mutual  relations  of  the 
successive  tones.  Obliterate  the  memory  of 
every  note  as  soon  as  the  next  note  is  played, 
and  there  can  be  no  melody.  Similarly  the 
larger  groupings  of  phrases  and  periods  involve 
reciprocal  contrasts  and  resemblances,  every 
section  being  heard  with  reference  to  its 
predecessors  and  successors.^  But  widely 
separated  parts  also  shed  light  on  one  another. 
The  theme  of  the  Andante  from  Beethoven's 
fifth  symphony  is  first  presented  as  a  simple 
melody,  meagrely  accompanied: 


P  dolce. 


m^ 


^ 


^ 


f 


eties  of  rhythm  and  accent,  might  conceivably  throw  some 
light  on  the  mysterious  problems  of  melody  and  harmony. 
1  See  Appendix  B. 


Form 


31 


m 


s 


Jt- 


^ 


fT^ 


? 


Later  it  occurs  in  a  more  florid  form : 


n^-^^^^^ 


^ 


cir 


^-^ 


And  later  still  the  embellishment  becomes 
even  more  pronounced: 


32       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


The  effect  in  each  case  depends  on  the 
memory  of  what  has  gone  before:  the  second 
appearance  is  felt  as  an  advance  upon  the 
first,  the  third  requires  the  background  of 
the  other  two.  Next  the  melody  appears  in 
minor : 


Form 


33 


Its  wonderfully  expressive,  almost  startling 
effect  is  due  to  the  long  sojourn  in  major. 
The  theme  would  be  different  were  any  of  the 
previous  enunciations  missing,  different  still 
if  it  stood  at  the  beginning,  with  no  back- 
ground whatever.  And  the  impression  of 
the  fortissimo,  a  little  later, 


;iMf  r.:r% 


34      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

depends  on  the  contrast  with  the  preceding 
piano.  Take  away  the  memory  of  the  past, 
and  the  result  will  be  entirely  different. 

These  relations  are  as  valid  and  real,  if  not 
as  evident,  as  those  between  successive  notes. 
The  fortissimo  owes  its  effect  just  as  unmis- 
takably to  the  softness  of  the  first  enuncia- 
tions as  a  sudden  crash  to  the  silence  upon 
which  it  ensues.  But  this  rule  cannot  be 
confined  within  the  limits  of  a  composition. 
In  Wagner's  Ring  of  the  Nibelung  motifs  are 
introduced  which  borrow  much  of  their  stir- 
ring quality  from  their  rendition  on  previous 
evenings.  The  impression  of  the  Funeral 
March  in  Gotterdammerung,  for  example,  is 
the  outcome  of  hundreds  of  thematic  repe- 
titions during  four  successive  performances. 
Indeed,  even  the  circumstance  that  the 
works  belong  together  is  unessential.  Unre- 
lated compositions  will  affect  one  another 
■as  inevitably  as  those  which  are  related.  The 
whole  realm  of  music  may  be  regarded  as  a 
single  huge  composition,  in  which  all  the  parts 
•react  on  each  other.  As  the  sudden  creation 
\  of  a  star  would  be  felt  throughout  the  universe, 
exerting  a  gravitative  attraction  on  every 
fellow-member,  so  every  note  that  is  written 


■A 


Form  35 

exerts  its  influence  throughout  the  domain  of  h 
tones.  To  speak  with  Guyau,  it  changes  the  ■': 
very  conditions  of  beauty. ^ 

This  explains  the  different  effects  produced 
by  the  same  composition  at  different  times. 
The  harmonies  which  sound  novel  to-day 
will  be  familiar  in  a  few  decades;  the  volume 
and  richness  of  sound  which  pleased  our 
ancestors  are  inadequate  to-day.  This  is  as 
much  a  matter  of  form  as  contiguous  shadings 
of  loudness  and  tempo.  The  effect  of  the 
following  progression  depends  on  the  contrast 
between  the  soft  and  the  loud  tones: 


^ 


w~~w 


1 


p     f  p    p     f  p 

Similarly  a  great  burst  of  sound,  produced  by 
an  orchestra  of  unusual  dimensions,  impresses 
us  because  it  transcends  what  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  hearing.  The  ordinary  manifesta- 
tions of  force  correspond  to  the  notes  which 
are  marked  piano,  while  the  unusual  effort 
rises  above  them  as  the  forte  emerges  out  of 
the  continuum  of  subdued  sound. 

>  Guyau,  Les  Probldmes  de  Vesthetique  contemporaine,  Paris, 
1897,  p.  140. 


36       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  if  we  would  adequately 
realise  the  form  of  a  composition,  we  must  not 
only  mark  off  the  symmetries  directly  appar- 
ent, but  also  search  for  the  minute  intersti- 
tial relations  between  the  tones,  and  establish 
the  larger  affiliations  with  the  entire  field  of 
music.  Undoubtedly  this  widened  concep- 
tion of  form  would  help  in  the  explana- 
tion of  musical  charm.  Both  Helmholtz  and 
Gurney  incline  to  such  a  view.  Helmholtz 
regards  the  existence  of  hidden,  imperfectly 
divined  form  as  essential  to  artistic  beauty. 
In  the  lower  realms  of  musical  effectiveness 
his  acoustic  discoveries,  he  believes,  have 
exposed  the  hidden  order;  which  implies,  of 
course,  that  there  is  further  undiscovered 
order,  on  which  the  higher  beauty  depends.^ 
Gurney  says:  "The  melodic  satisfaction  of 
our  semi-human  or  savage  ancestors  depended 
on  some  embryonic  proportional  and  rhyth- 
mical element  not  extending,  perhaps,  beyond 
a  few  short  and  familiar  recurrences;  but  I 
believe  that  in  the  hidden  and  unique  pro- 
cesses by  which  the  modern  lover  of  music 
1  realises  a  melodic  form,  we  have  merely  an 
infinitely   elaborated   and   complex  develop- 

1  Helmholtz,  Sensations  of  Tone,  London,  1885,  p.  367. 


Form  37 

ment  of  the  same  proportional  sense. ' '  ^     That 
is,  there    is  a   realm   of  minute,    interstitial . 
form,    which  as  yet  baffles  the  acumen  of! 
philosophers. 

Even  if  we  were  to  fathom  the  mysteries 
of  this  realm,  however,  there  would  be  a  fur- 
ther question  to  answer.  Formal  relations 
which  are  clearly  perceived  please  us  by  this 
very  fact.  But  where  the  relations  elude 
observation  the  matter  is  not  quite  so  simple. 
Consonance,  for  example,  depends  on  an 
arithmetical  proportion  between  the  vibra- 
tions forming  two  or  more  tones;  but  since 
these  vibrations  are  not  consciously  appre- 
hended, we  cannot  attribute  the  harmoni- 
ous effect  to  their  proportion,  but  explain  it 
as  a  physiological  phenomenon.  In  general, 
where  a  formal  relation  is  not  evident  to  the 
senses,  it  is  incumbent  on  us  to  explain  why 
it  pleases.  Gurney,  for  example,  does  not 
regard    the   aesthetic    value   of   his   original, 

'  Gumey,  The  Power  of  Sound,  London,  1880,  p.  122.  As 
a  champion  of  the  uniqueness  of  the  musical  faculty,  Gumey 
might  reject  the  idea  that  formal  analysis  could  aid  in  ex- 
plaining the  charm  of  music.  However,  this  conclusion 
is  clearly  involved  in  his  words.  If  modem  music  is  an 
elaborated  development  of  an  embryonic  proportional  cle- 
ment, analysis  would  certainly  reveal  the  original  nucleus 
of  elaboration.      See  also  p.  194  of  his  work. 


38      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

embryonic  element  as  inherent,  but  derives 
it  from  association.  Hence  the  pleasure  of 
the  "elaborated  and  complex  development" 
would  also  be  derived  from  association.  For 
the  present  we  can  say  little  about  these 
mysterious  matters.  We  must  first  know 
what  the  forms  really  are  before  we  can 
speculate  about  the  reason  for  their  effec- 
tiveness. Suffice  it  to  say  that  there  must 
be  a  reason. 

Meanwhile  there  are  other  sources  of  tonal 
delight  to  be  examined.  Association  is  a 
prominent  factor  in  all  varieties  of  aesthetic 
pleasure.  By  some  theorists,  indeed,  it  has 
been  invoked  as  the  foremost  element  of 
poetic  charm.  Let  us  devote  the  next  chapter 
to  it,  and  endeavour  to  determine  the  part 
which  it  plays  in  the  enjoyment  of  musical 
compositions. 


Ill 

ASSOCIATION 


WHEN  we  wish  to  remember  a  thing, 
we  may  resort  to  the  old  expedient 
of  tying  a  string  around  the  finger. 
The  knot  which  fastens  the  string  also  unites 
or  associates  the  two  thoughts,  the  perception 
of  the  finger  arousing  the  idea  of  the  thing 
which  was  to  be  remembered.  A  feeling 
(/likewise  may^be_  associated  with  an  idea.'^The 
name  of  the  person  who  insulted  us  will  cause 
our  heart  to  beat  faster,  the  Christmas  bell 
awakens  poetic  sentiments.  Artistic  effec- 
tiveness depends  in  great  measure  on  asso- 
ciated feelings  of  this  nature.  Poetry  makes 
liberal  use  of  words  that  are  suffused  with 
sentiment.  Painting  represents  scenes  that 
recall  interesting  experiences. 
Kx'  Music  likewise  owes  some  of  its  charm  to 
this  source.  ^  Waltzes  that  we  have  repeatedly 
danced  to  retain  a  halo  of  vanished  pleasure. 


40      The  Basis'  of  Musical  Pleasure 

Songs  that  we  sang  in  our  youth  are  deposi- 
taries of  precious  experience.  But  the  scope 
of  this  species  of  effectiveness  is  limited  and 
uncertain.  My  waltz  may  not  be  the  one 
which  my  neighbour  has  woven  into  his  life, 
the  song  of  the  Irishman  will  not  awaken 
tender  memories  in  the  bosom  of  the  Slav. 

«.  Accident  alone  is  the  guiding  factor  in  these 
cases,    an    insufficient     basis    for    aesthetic 
determinations . 
r/     To  be  sure,  entire  classes  of  music  may 
'affect  us  in  a  similar  way.     Hymns  in  general 
lift  us  into  a  religious  frame  of  mind,  trium- 
phal fanfares  and  military  marches  awaken  pa- 
itriotic  fervour.     Even  particular  instruments 
— ^like  the  trumpet,  oboe,  and  organ — have 
'  their  characteristic  emotional  tinges,  contrib- 

iJ^uted  in  part  by  association.  In  Greek  music 
this  specialisation  of  effect  was  prominent. 
Certain  scales  were  employed  for  definite 
purposes, — one,  for  example,  being  reserved 
for  sacred  occasions,  another  for  the  expres- 
sion of  love,  a  third  for  the  accompaniment  of 
martial  feelings,  and  so  forth;  as  a  result  the 
circumstances  attending  the  employment  of 
the  scales  reacted  on  the  latter,  and  lent  them 
a  specific  quality.     There  is  an  approach  to 


I 


Association  41 

this  sort  of  effectiveness  in  the  folk  songs  and 
dance  music  of  the  modern  nations:  we  find 
it  in  the  gypsy  strains  of  Hungarian  music, 
the  yodellings  of  the  Tyrolese  mountaineers, 
and  the  fandangos  and  boleros  of  the  Spanish 
maidens.  But  the  closest  approach  is  perhaps 
to  be  found  in  the  Gregorian  chant,  the  unique 
effect  of  which  is  due  to  the  fact  that  it  is 
confined  almost  wholly  to  a  single  set  of 
circumstances  and  feelings. 

In  a  broader  sense  all  music  may  be  said  i 
to  have  acquired  a  certain  sweetness,  sacred-  \ 
ness,  and  dignity  as  a  result  of  the  festive! 
occasions    on   which    it    is    employed.     This 
may  be  the  true  source  of  that  vague,  general 
pleasure  which  Lazarus  attributes  to  the  art, 
and  which  is  independent  of  the  specific  na- 
ture of  any  composition, — independent  even 
of  a  definite  perception  of  its  tones. ^     Like- 
wise there  may  be  an  internal  accretion  of 
delight.^'  At  the  theatre  the  mere  sight  of  the 
footlights,  together  with  the  odours  peculiar 
to  the  place,  arouses  a  pleasure  which  is  a 
legacy  of  the  former  plays  we  have  witnessed; 
jy^o    music    yields    a    compound    interest    of 

'  Lazarus,   Das  Lebcn  dcr  SceU,   Berlin,   iSyy,  vol.   iii.,  p. 
150. 


42       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

,  satisfaction,  the  enjoyment  once  experienced 
^(;;__^^tending  to  renew  itself  on  later  occasions.  The 
^tragic  impression  of  the  key  of  C  minor,  for 
/example,  may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  Beetho- 
[/  ven  wrote  so  many  compositions  of  a  tragic 
nature  in  this  key.  (Witness  the  sonatas 
for  piano  Op.  13  and  iii,  the  fifth  symphony, 
and  the  overture  to  Coriolanus.) 
j  But  all  these  contributions  of  pleasure  will 
j  not  afford  much  help  in  the  solution  of  our 
problem.  Where  the  previous  delight  of  a 
composition  lingers  on,  we  must  first  account 
for  the  original  charm;  and  accidental  asso- 
ciations, even  if  they  apply  to  whole  classes 
of  music,  have  nothing  to  do  with  intrinsic 
value.  An  atheist  may  appreciate  the  musi- 
cal worth  of  a  choral  as  keenly  as  a  believer, 
a  Frenchman  reap  as  much  enjoyment  from 
Die  Wacht  am  Rhein  as  the  most  patriotic 
German. 

If  association  is  to  account  for  the  deeper 

charm  of  music,  it  must  be  involved  in  the 

fix/  I  yery  essence  of  the  art.     We  may  venture  the 

\\         i  Suggestion,  in  this  connection,  that  some  of 


V 


the  pleasure  aroused  by  music  is  due  to 
j  association  with  the  experiences  of  rocking 
I  and  related  movements  during  the  first  years 


Association  43 

(/  of  life.  If  any  trace  of  this  period  were  to 
siirvive  oblivion,  it  would  very  likely  be  that 
of  the  seiTsations  in  question,  deep-reaching 
and  pervasive  as  they  were  at  the  time.  The 
whole  life  of  the  infant  is  enclosed,  as  it  were, 
in  the  systole  and  diastole  of  rhythmical 
movement;  is  it  absurd  to  suppose  that  the 
rhythms  of  music  arouse,  in  a  dreamy,  far-off  / 
manner,  the  sensations  of  opening,  budding 
life? 

From  this  suggestion  we  pass  to  a  more 
serious  attempt  at  explanation.     The  union  of 
ideas  and  feelings  so  far  considered  must  be 
effected    in    the   life- time    of    an   individual. 
Though  the  odour  of  a  Christmas  tree  arouses 
poetic  sentiments  in  me — because  I  played 
about  the  tree  when  I  was   young — my  chil- 
dren will  not  be  affected  unless  they  again 
have  the  same  associations  established.     It  is         , 
conceivable,  however,  for  a  frequent  repetition'!  ^1  \ 
of    experiences,    during    successive    genera-  ^.   j 
tions,  to  end  in  the  establishment  of  heredi- -  '^  ' 
tary  associations,  the  feelings  of  the  ancestors 
being  aroused  in  the  descendants  without  re- 
newed couplingj   According  to  some  writers, 
the  delights  of  landscape  are  explicable  in 
this  manner.     Our  savage  forefathers,  living 


^ 


44      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

in  close  contact  with  nature,  had  the  strong 
emotions  of  their  wild  lives  interwoven  with 
natural  objects;  so  that  the  mysterious 
sentiments  aroused  in  us  by  nature  are  a 
reverberation  of  feelings  which  were  experi- 
^enced  countless  generations  ago.  The  charm 
|of  music,  too,  has  been  made  the  subject  of 
jja  similar  explanation.  Darwin  proposes  a 
theory  of  this  kind,  the  conclusions  of  which 
are  accepted  by  Gurney.  Song — the  primary 
form  of  the  art — is  supposed  to  have  been 
developed  by  sexual  selection.  Those  of  our 
remote  ancestors  who  could  sing  best  were 
chosen  as  mates  by  the  opposite  sex,  as 
is  the  case  among  birds;  the  emotions  of 
love,  rivalry,  triumph,  and  the  like,  experi- 
enced during  the  breeding  season,  were 
associatively  welded  to  the  perception  of  the 
tones,  so  that  we,  in  hearing  music,  have 
called  up  "  vaguely  and  indefinitely  the  strong 
emotions  of  a  long-past  age."^ 

An  initial  difficulty  with  every  theory  which, 
like  this,  depends  on  hereditary  association 
of  ideas,  resides  in  the  doubtful  possibility 
of  the  transmission,  from  parent  to  child,  of 
characteristics    acquired    during    the    life    of 

'  Darwin,  The  Descent  of  Man,  New  York,  1898,  p.  584. 


Association  45 

the  parent,  f  The  Chinese  have  long  distorted 
the  feet  of  their  women,  yet  Chinese  babes 
have  normal  feet.  According  to  Weissmann 
only  inborn  characteristics  are,  with  rare  ex- 
ceptions, handed  down  from  one  generation 
to  another.  Life  resembles  the  chain  clock. 
The  normal,  "inborn"  motion  of  the  chains 
is  straight  downward.  We  may  deflect  this 
course  by  swinging  the  chains  from  side  to 
side  or  revolving  them  in  circles,  but  we  shall 
only  influence  the  present  descent:  wind  up 
the  clock  again,  and  the  "inborn"  course 
reasserts  itself. 

Since  Weissmann 's  view  is  not  established, 
however,  it  is  not  absolutely  fatal  to  the 
theory ;  but  there  are  other  difficulties  awaiting 
it.  It  is  not  universally  admitted  even  that 
birds  emit  sounds  in  order  to  attract  the  other 
sex:  Spencer  maintains  that  their  heightened 
vitality  at  the  breeding  time  finds  an  outlet, 
as  in  other  ways  and  at  other  times,  in  vocal 
utterance.  Then  the  case  of  birds  has  no 
bearing  whatever  on  human  music.  One 
might  as  well  try  to  establish  a  theory  of 
human  instincts  by  the  analogy  of  spiders. 
The  class  of  birds  diverged  from  the  tree  of 
life  as  far  back  as  the  reptilian  age,  and  a 


46      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

connection  between  the  two  kinds  of  singing 
would  presuppose  the  existence  of  music 
already  in  the  common  reptilian  ancestors, — 
an  absurd  supposition.  But  it  is  almost 
equally  improbable  that  music  was  inde- 
pendently developed  by  sexual  selection  in 
the  animals  leading  up  to  man.  Darwin 
himself  regards  it  as  surprising  that  "we 
have  not  as  yet  any  good  evidence  that  these 
[the  vocal]  organs  are  used  by  male  mammals 
to  charm  the  females."  Furthermore  we 
find  among  savage  songs  comparatively 
few  that  refer  to  love, — a  strange  fact  if 
music  arose  in  connection  with  the  amatory 
instinct. 

Balfour  opposes  another  difficulty:  *'If 
it  is  the  primitive  association  which  produces 
the  pleasure-giving  quality,  the  further  this 
is  left  behind  by  the  developing  art,  the  less 
pleasure  should  be  produced.  .  .  .  according 
to  all  association  theories  of  music,  that  which 
is  charged  with  the  raw  material  of  aesthetic 
pleasure  is  not  the  music  we  wish  to  have 
explained,  but  some  primeval  howl  .  .  . 
and  no  solution  whatever  is  offered  of  the 
paradox  that  the  sounds  which  give  musical 
delight  have  no  associations,   and  that  the 


Association  47 

sounds  which  had  associations  give  no  musical 
delight.  "1 

This  objection,  too,  may  not  be  insuperable. 
It  is  conceivable  that  the  original  strains  in- 
volved a  mental  process  the  arousal  of  which 
demands  more  and  more  complex  groupings 
of  tone  as  the  mind  grows  in  organisation.  It 
is  something  like  this,  we  imagine,  that  Gurney 
had  in  mind  when  he  spoke  of  the  "  embryonic 
proportional  and  rhythmical  element"  and  its 
"  infinitely  elaborated  and  complex  develop- 
ment" in  the  music  of  to-day. 2  However, 
if  this  way  of  escaping  the  difficulty  is  to  be 
chosen  it  is  incumbent  on  the  champions  of 
the  theory  to  exhibit  the  aboriginal  elements, 
with  their  manifold  elaborations  in  modern 
music.  That  nothing  of  the  kind  has  been 
done  it  is  needless  to  say.  In  general  the 
theory  of  Darwin  suffers  from  lack  of  proof; 
it  rests  on  mere  conjecture,  and,  though  it  is 
impossible  to  refute  it,  the  difficulties  beset- 
ting it  are  so  numerous  that  acceptance  seems 
out  of  question. 

The  only  argument  of  weight  in  favour  of 

'  Balfour,  The  Foundations  of  Belief  ,  New  York,  1895,  P-  39 
et  seq. 

2  See  quotation  in  Chap.  II. 


il 


i^ 


48      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

an  evolutionary  explanation  of  musical  en- 
joyment is  to  be  drawn  from  the  pleasure 
derived    from    the    art    by    young    children. 

(^  Their  limited  years  of  experience  might  seem 
inadequate  as  a  basis  for  the  associations 
and  symbolisations  required  by  some  other 
theories.  However,  this  point  is  by  no 
means  settled;  and  there  are  few  or  no  data 
regarding  the  enjoyment  of  musical  compo- 

j  sitions  by  children  under  ten  years  of  age ; 

\i ;  so  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  pleasure 

V\  which  they  experience  is  really  of  the  deep 

and  penetrating  kind  experienced  by  adults. 


IV 

SYMBOLISATION 

WE  arrive  at  the  theories  of  symbolisa- 
tion.  They  must  be  distinguished 
from  the  type  just  considered. 
According  to  both  kinds  of  explanation, 
music  reminds  us  of  things  which  have 
emotional  value ;  but  in  the  case  of  symbolisa- 
tion  it  imitates  or  reproduces  these  things, 
while  association  presupposes  no  resemblance 
between  the  tones  and  the  objects  or  feelings 
which  they  suggest.  When  a  song  which  I 
heard  in  my  youth  reminds  me  of  boyhood 
joys,  the  connection  is  merely  accidental; 
but  when  a  cradle  song  arouses  tender  senti- 
ments, it  does  so  by  simulating  the  motion 
of  the  cradle,  and  reproducing  the  quiet  and 
repose  and  gentle  singing  which  accompany 
the  act  of  motherly  devotion. 

THE  THEORY  OF^PENCER 

Following  the  theory  sketched  in  the  last 

4  49 


50      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

chapter,  it  may  be  well  to  take  up  an  explana- 
tion proposed  by  another  great  champion 
of  the  evolutionary  doctrine.  According  to 
Herbert  Spencer,  music  derives  its  effective- 
ness from  speech.^  This  is  said  to  be  "com- 
pounded of  two  elements,  the  words  and  the 
tones  in  which  they  are  uttered — the  signs 
of  ideas  and  the  signs  of  feeling.  _  While 
certain  articulations_express  _  the_„  though t, 
certain  modulations  express  the  more  or  less 
of  pain  and  pleasure  which  the  thought  gives. 
Using  the  word  cadence  in  an  unusually 
extended  sense,  as  comprehending  all  varia- 
tions of  voice,  we  may  say  that  cadence  is  the 
commentary  of  the  emotions  upon  the  proposi- 
tions of  the  intellect.''  Music  is  supposed  to 
have  its  root  "in  those  tones,  intervals,  and 
cadences  of  speech  which  express  feeling — 
arising  by  the  combination  and  intensifying 
of  these,  and  coming  finally  to  have  an  embodi- 
ment of  its  own";  and  the  special  signs  of 
i  feeling  which  ultimately  produce  music  are 
loudness,  quality  or  timbre,  pitch,  inter- 
vals, and  rate  of  variation.  Excitement  and 
strength  of  feehng  vent  themselves  in  sounds 

1  spencer,    Essays:   Scientific^    Political,    and   Speculative, 
New  York,  1896,  p.  400  et  seq. 


Symbolisation  51 

that  are  louder,  more  resonant,  higher  or 
lower,  make  use  of  greater  intervals,  and  skip 
from  tone  to  tone  more  rapidly,  than  those 
expressive  of  ordinary  feelings.  Song  is  an 
augmentation  of  these  traits,  distinguished 
from  ordinary  speech  by  the  "vocal  peculiar- 
ities which  indicate  excited  feeling."  "Every 
one  of  the  alterations  of  voice  which  we  have 
found  to  be  a  physiological  result  of  pain  or 
pleasure,  is  carried  to  an  extreme  in  vocal 
music."  Here  we  find  still  greater  loudness, 
resonance,  extremes  of  pitch,  intervals,  and 
rapidity  of  variation.  Hence  the  emotions 
originally  accompanying  passionate  utterance 
will  be  revived  in  the  musical  extension; 
indeed,  since  the  marks  which  indicate  such 
utterance  are  exaggerated,  there  will  even 
be  an  intensification  of  effect. 

The  trouble   with   this   theory   is   that  it 
gives  us  the  cage  without  the  bird.     It  over- 
looks the  essential  aspect  of  music.     For  it  is  | 
possible  to  augment  all  the  traits  of  excited  | 
speech    without   obtaining   music,    and    also/j 
to  produce  music  with  the  features  in  questior/ 
developed  even  less  than  in  ordinary  speech! 
We   can  imagine   a   group   of   persons   with 
voices  of  superhuman  strength  and  resonance 


1/ 


52       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

and  with  ranges  extending  from  the  deepest 
bass  to  the  highest  soprano,  engaged  in  a 
furious  dispute,  in  the  heat  of  which  intervals 
of  several  octaves  would  be  jumped  with 
marvellous  rapidity;  yet  nobody  would  mis- 
take the  resulting  din  for  a  cantata,  nobody 
would  admire  its  melodic  beauty,  harmonic 
richness,  or  contrapuntal  interweaving  of 
themes.  On  the  other  hand  let  us  imagine 
the  following  little  sequence  of  tones  played 
softly  on  a  xylophone,  an  instrument  of  little 
resonance : 


1= 


I    !     I 


d    4    gJ- 


* 


:t= 


i 


Although  the  tones  are  softer  than  those  of 
speech,  lie  at  an  ordinary  pitch,  vary  but 
little  in  intervals,  confine  themselves  to 
successive  intervals  of  a  second  and  to  the 
total  range  of  a  third,  nobody  will  fail  to 
recognise  a  musical  phrase.  Indeed,  if  the 
rhythm  of  the  phrase  is  merely  reproduced 
by  taps  on  the  table,  with  the  loss  of  all 


Symbolisation  53 

resonance,  pitch,  and  variation  of  intervals, 
the  result  will  be  more  musical  than  the  din 
of  the  disputants;  the  germ  of  music  is 
present,  which  is  not  the  case  in  the  confusion 
of  voices. 

To  be  sure,  the  phrase  is  not  beautiful ;  but 
if  we  insist  on  beauty  we  may  turn  to  the 
theme  of  the  Allegretto  from  Beethoven's 
seventh  symphony:  almost  as  simple  as  the 
illustration  above,  it  nevertheless  harbours 
genuine  musical  value.  The  difference  be- 
tween this  case  and  the  noise  of  the  quarrel- 
lers,  as  between  all  music  and  ordinary  speech, 
lies  in  the  formal,  symmetrical  nature  of  the 
music  and  the  hap-hazard,  random  character 
of  the  vocal  melee.  But  form  and  plan  cannot 
be  imparted  by  any  amount  of  mere  loudness, 
resonance,  or  variation  of  pitch.  As  well 
might  one  expect  to  get  a  patterned  carpet  by 
throwing  together  a  heap  of  bright  and 
variegated  threads.  What  we  need  is  a 
definite  arrangement  of  threads:  this  will 
give  us  the  carpet,  even  with  the  use  of  only 
a  few  colours.  Likewise  music  demands  a 
definite  arrangement  of  tones;  the  tones  may 
be  few  in  number  and  may  vary  from  one 
another  by  the  smallest  intervals;  yet,  cast 


54      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

into  the  regular  mould,  they  will  result  in 
music.  The  effectiveness,  accordingly,  ought 
somehow  to  reside  in  the  mould. ^ 

To  be  sure,  the  question  involves  delicate 
psychological  considerations.  A  pretty  de- 
sign pleases  by  itself,  through  the  arrange- 
ment of  its  parts;  if  it  is  used  for  a  piece  of 
jewelry,  however,  and  embellished  with  pre- 
cious stones,  its  intrinsic  charm  is  overshad- 
owed by  the  brilliancy  of  the  gems.  Use  gold, 
without  any  stones,  and  it  is  doubtful  which 
is  to  be  regarded  as  the  main  factor.  So 
likewise  at  the  theatre.  When  we  are  infatu- 
ated with  the  heroine's  personality  and  the 
plot  is  not  especially  interesting,  we  enjoy 
watching  her,  and  the  rest  is  a  mere  setting. 
Reverse  the  conditions  and  the  play  rises  to 
paramount  importance,  while  the  heroine 
becomes  an  accessory.  How  is  it  in  music? 
Does  the  formal  elaboration  merely  constitute 
a  framework  for  imitations  of  the  cadences  of 
speech  ?    Such  a  condition  is  not  intrinsically 

»  In  fairness  we,  must  quote  Spencer's  words  to  the  effect 
that  "the  distinctive  traits  of  song  are  simply  the  traits 
of  emotional  speech  intensified  and  systernatised. ' '  The 
trouble  is  that  he  makes  no  effort  to  show  whence  the  sys- 
tematisation  is  derived,  or  to  indicate  any  connection  be- 
tween it  and  speech.  This,  however,  is  the  vital  aspect  of 
the  question. 


Symbolisation  55 

impossible;  butit  is  not  verified  by  experience. 
When  we  pronounce  on  the  relative  impor- 
tance of  material  and  design,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  trinket,  we  are  guided  by  our  feeling, 
regarding  that  as  essential  which  engrosses 
our  attention.  But  the  effectiveness  of  music 
does  not  seem  to  be  involved  in  imitations  of 
speech  :  it  is  this  effect  of  harmony  or  that  flow 
of  melody  that  we  enjoy,  not  the  suggestion! 
they  afford  of  human  utterance.  Who  can 
detect  any  resemblance  to  speech  in  Chopin's 
^tude  on  the  black  keys ;  who  would  attribute 
the  charm  of  Strauss 's  Blue  Danube  Waltzes 
to  this  source?  As  well  might  one  expect 
a  pine  chest  to  do  service  for  a  pine  tree, 
and  recall  the  Christmas  experiences  of 
youth. 

Here  we  have  a  case  where  Balfour's  objec- 
tion, mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  has  com- 
plete validity.  The  tones  that  had  associations 
are  not  those  which  we  enjoy;  and  the  tones 
which  we  enjoy  are  not  those  that  had  asso- 
ciations. It  is  conceivable  that  modern  mu- 
sic, as  Gurney  says,  is  an  elaboration  of 
some  elementary  proportion;  but  where  shall 
we  look  for  imitations  of  speech  in  the  Andante 
of  Beethoven's  tenth  sonata,  where  seek  it  in 


56      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

the  opening  of  his  magnificent  Waldstein? 
Who  can  hear  cadences  of  voice  in  Wagner's 
Fire  Music,  who  recognise  linguistic  effects 
in  the  turmoil  of  his  Venusherg?  Is  not 
the  mere  reference  to  these  examples  a 
reductio  ad  absurdumf 

The  criticism  may  be  continued  along  other 
lines.  If  Spencer's  theory  is  true,  three  condi- 
tions must  be  fulfilled :  Definite  emotions 
must  vent  themselves  in  invariable  cadences 
of  speech ;  compositions  which  arouse  definite 
emotions  must  have  invariable  musical  char- 
acteristics; the  cadences  and  the  characteris- 
tics must  agree.  Not  even  the  first  of  these 
propositions  has  received  anything  like  proof. 
In  fact,  the  actual  state  of  affairs  is  chaotic. 
The  same  feelings  may  receive  expression  in 
different  cadences,  and  the  same  cadences  may 
accompany  different  feelings.  To  cite  but 
two  examples  from  Gurney,  the  sentences  "  I 
love  you"  and  "I  hate  you"  may  both  be 
pronounced  with  the  same  rise  of  pitch  on  the 
second  word;  and  "The  command  'Go  away' 
may  be  given  quite  as  naturally  with  a  sudden 
rise  on  the  last  syllable  as  with  a  sudden 
drop."  ^     The  rules    of    correspondence    are 

•Gurney,  The  Power  of  Sound,  London,  1 880,  pp.  484  and  481. 


Symbolisation  57 

but  few  in  number  and  general  in  char- 
acter, affording  no  basis  for  a  theory  of 
musical  effectiveness  like  that  under  consid- 
eration. 

Finally  it  may  be  suggested  that  the  emo- 
tional accompaniment  of  speech  is  too  slight, 
as  a  rule,  to  furnish  the  basis  of  powerful 
associations.  Association  (together  with  sym- 
bolisation like  that  in  question)  operates  by 
distilling  off  and  transmuting  feelings  that 
were  previously  experienced.  But  this  presup- 
poses an  original  fund  of  sufficient  depth.  It 
is  difficult  to  see  how  the  neutral  communica- 
tions that  fill  the  greater  part  of  our  conversa- 
tion should  generate  exalted  feelings  like  those 
aroused  by  the  V  or  spiel  to  Parsifal.  So  we  are 
driven  back  to  the  cadences  indicative  of  the 
more  deeply  emotional  kinds  of  speech,  which 
greatly  restricts  the  explanation  and  heightens 
the  difficulties  to  be  overcome. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  music  occasionally 
moves  the  hearer  by  suggesting  impassioned 
utterance;  but  this  is  only  one  of  its  many 
channels  of  effectiveness.  The  symbolisation 
of  speech  is  co-ordinate  with  other  varieties  of 
symbolic  suggestion,  some  of  which  far  out- 
rank it  in  importance.     To  lift  it  to  the  posi- 


58       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

tion  of  a  solitary  and  supreme  explanation, 
is  totally  unwarranted  by  the  facts. 

SCHOPENHAUER  AND  LOTZE 

We  must  devote  considerable  space  to  the 
theory  of  Schopenhauer.  The  fundamental 
thought   of   this   philosopher's   metaphysical 

/'I  system  is  that  space,  time,  and  matter  do  not 
constitute  the  essential  world.  The  heart  of 
being  is  to  be  found  in  the  will:  as  our  own 
body  is  the  manifestation  of  a  personal  striv- 
ing, desiring,  and  willing,  so  the  whole  uni- 
verse, with  its  wealth  of  mineral,  vegetable, 
and  animal  forms,  is  the  "  objectification " 
of  a  world-will,  which  is  distinguished  from 
that  of  the  individual  by  the  fact  that  it 
is   unconscious,  except  where  it  crops  forth 

^  in  human  or  animal  intelligence.  The  arts 
represent  the  "forms"  of  the  world  in  their 
purity  and  essence;  as  such  they  copy  what 
Schopenhauer,  following  Plato,  calls  the  Ideas. 

i  Music,  however,  occupies  a  distinct  place:  it 
represents  the  will  directly,  forming  an  objec- 
tification  in  exactly  the  same  sense_as  "^Ehe- 

material  world  or  the  Ideas.  Music  and  the 
material  world,  or  its  Ideas,  thus  turn  out  to 
be  co-ordinate  or  parallel  to  each  other. 


Symbolisation  59 

'  Inorganic  things 
Material  J  Plants 
World  of  I  Animals 

[Human  beings 

r  Inorganic  things  Bass         I 

Ideas  of  i  ^^^""^^  Tenor       L/f^gi^ 

Animals  Alto 


Human  beings  Soprano 


Will 

Owing  to  this  agreement,  there  is  an  analogy 
between  the  two  realms.  The  deepest  tones 
correspond  to  the  lowest  grades  of  will-mani- 
festation, comprising  unorganised  nature  or 
the  mass  of  the  planet.  The  fact  that  the 
bass  notes  are  accompanied  by  the  higher 
partials,  and  that  "only  those  high  notes  may 
[harmonically]  accompany  a  bass-note  which 
actually  already  sound  along  with  it  of  them- 
selves," is  "analogous  to  the  fact  that  the 
whole  of  the  bodies  and  organisations  of  nature 
must  be  regarded  as  having  come  into  exist- 
ence through  gradual  development  out  of  the 
mass  of  the  planet,"  which  is  "both  their 
supporter  and  their  source."  Bass  occupies 
the  same  position  in  harmony  which  "unor- 
ganised nature,  the  crudest  mass,  upon  which 


6o      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

all  rests,  and  from  which  everything  originate 
and  develops,"  occupies  in  the  world  of  ma1 
ter.  The  tenor  corresponds  to  the  vegetabL 
kingdom,  the  alto  to  the  realm  of  animals. 
"The  disconnected  course  of  all  the  comple- 
mental  parts,  and  their  regulation  by  definite 
laws,  is  analogous  to  the  fact  that  in  the  whole 
irrational  world,  from  the  crystal  to  the  most 
perfect  animal,  no  being  has  a  connected 
consciousness  of  its  own  which  would  make 
its  life  into  a  significant  whole,  and  none 
experiences  a  sticcession  of  mental  develop- 
ments, none  perfects  itself  by  culture,  but 
everything  exists  always  in  the  same  way 
according  to  its  kind,  determined  by  fixed 
law." 

Man  finds  his  counterpart  in  the  soprano. 
"As  he  alone,  because  endowed  with  reason, 
constantly  looks  before  and  after  on  the  path 
of  his  actual  life  and  its  innumerable  possi- 
bilities, and  so  achieves  a  course  of  life  which 
is  intellectual,  and  therefore  connected  as  a 
whole  .  .  .  the  melody  has  significant  in- 
tentional connection  from  beginning  to  end. 
It  records,  therefore,  the  history  of  the  in- 
i  tellectually  enlightened  will.  .  .  .  Now  the 
nature  of  man  consists  in  this,  that  his  will 


Symbolisation  6i 

^:rives,  is  satisfied  and  strives  anew,  and  so 
n  forever.  .  .  .  And  corresponding  to  this 
be  nature  of  melody  is  a  constant  digres- 
sion and  deviation  from  the  key-note  in  a 
thousand  ways  .  .  .  yet  there  always  follows 
a  constant  return  to  the  key-note.  "^  The 
analogy  is  carried  out  in  some  detail,  and 
illustrated  by  reference  to  various  styles  of 
composition;  but  a  comprehension  of  the 
theory  does  not  require  that  we  enter  into 
all  these  particulars. 

In  considering  the  value  of  the  theory 
we  may  ignore  its  philosophical  basis.  The 
attempt  to  establish  a  musical  doctrine  by 
means  of  a  system  of  metaphysics  resembles 
the  endeavour  to  reach  a  neighbouring  city 
by  first  travelling  around  the  globe.  Until 
philosophers  agree,  we  may  relinquish  such 
efforts.  Then,  too,  the  theory  need  not  be 
despoiled  by  this  abbreviation.  We  have 
but  to  rub  out  the  will  and  the  Ideas  in  our 
scheme,  and  it  still  remains,  as  a  plausible 
explanation  of  musical  charm.  The  question 
then  becomes:  are  Schopenhauer's  analogies 
correct;  is  the  art  of  tones  a  reflection  of  the 

«  Schopenhauer,    The   World  as   Will  and  Idea,    London, 
"891.  P-  333  ^i  ^eq. 


62       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

material  world  as  indicated  by  the  philosopher  ? 
The  arbitrary,  fantastic  nature  of  the 
functions  ascribed  to  the  four  voices,  in  the 
representation  of  the  natural  realms,  must 
be  apparent  at  a  glance.  Analysis  supports 
this  impression  by  revealing  many  inaccuracies 
in  the  supposed  parallelism.  Music  does  not 
necessarily  consist  of  four  voices:  previous  to 
the  ninth  century  a  single  voice  was  the  rule. 
Furthermore,  even  strictly  four-part  music  in 
general  comprises  only  three  distinct  parts,  the 
fourth,  or  soprano,  being  a  duplication  of  one 
of  the  others.  Where  is  this  significant  feature 
matched  in  the  material  world?  Is  the  life 
of  man  merely  a  repetition  of  the  lower  realms  ? 
Through  his  intellectual  nature,  to  be  sure, 
man  pictures  the  subhuman  world,  but  animals 
likewise  have  images  of  plants  and  inorganic 
things,  yet  the  alto  is  not  a  repetition  of  the 
tenor  or  bass.  Then,  too,  the  thoughts  of 
human  beings  are  occupied  in  the  main  with 
other  human  beings,  not  with  subhuman 
things, — a  fact  which  is  not  reflected  in  the 
con-binations  of  harmony,  where  the  soprano 
doubles  one  of  the  lower  voices.  Occasionally 
■ — in  the  seventh  chords — we  have  four  dis- 
tinct parts  instead  of  three,  another  puzzling 


Symbolisation  63 

feature.  And  finally  there  is  the  notorious 
fact  that  melodies  are  not  confined  to  the 
soprano :  sometimes  they  jump  systematically 
from  one  voice  to  another,  sometimes  two 
or  more  are  combined  in  different  parts.  Is 
it  possible  to  reconcile  this  with  the  statement 
that  the  soprano  alone  has  connection  as  a 
whole,  and  that  the  other  voices  are  mere 
disconnected  complements  ? 

As  a  rule  the  secondary  parts  are  organically 
interwoven  with  the  soprano ;  the  psycholog- 
ical effect  is  that  of  a  whole,  not  of  four  united 
elements.  Accordingly,  if  the  lower  parts  are 
to  be  conceived  as  reflections  of  the  subor- 
dinate realms,  they  do  not  picture  them  in 
isolation,  but  rather  as  they  enter  into  human 
activities.  And  if  the  soprano  represents 
human  life,  it  can  only  delineate  the  same 
in  its  interconnection  with  the  lower  realms. 
But  do  the  vicissitudes  of  coal-mining,  potato- 
growing,  and  cattle-raising  form  the  subject 
of  the  melodic  communications?  Are  the 
interests  of  every  human  life  neatly  parcelled 
out  among  the  activities  of  digging,  plan*-ing, 
and  sheep- tending?  Has  every  passion  these 
appendages  of  the  soil?  Viewing  humanity 
as  a  whole,  to  be  sure,  there  is  a  relation  to 


64      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

the  other  realms  somewhat  similar  to  that 
between  the  soprano  and  the  lower  voices. 
But  according  to  the  theory  of  Schopenhauer 
it  is  the  detailed  view  of  humanity,  not  the 
bird's-eye  panorama,  which  is  depicted  in 
the  soprano.  "The  inexhaustibleness  of  pos- 
sible melodies  corresponds  to  the  inexhausti- 
bleness of  Nature  in  difference  of  individuals, 
physiognomies,  and  courses  of  life."^  The 
scale  of  measurement  for  the  soprano  is  too 
small  for  the  other  voices,  that  of  the  other 
voices  too  large  for  the  soprano.  We  must 
adjust  our  eyes  for  one  or  the  other  view,  a 
combination  being  impossible. 

So  much  for  the  flaws  in  Schopenhauer's 
theory.  In  his  analysis  of  the  soprano  he 
exhibits  a  highly  significant  correspondence. 
^  i  Melody,  with  its  harmonic  basis,  is  an  interplay 
I  of  agreement  and  disagreement,  life  an  alter- 
nation of  desire  and  appeasement.  In  both 
there  is  a  perpetual  expectation,  a  striving 
toward  goals,  a  satisfaction  of  attainment, 
with  a  supervening  renewal  of  desire.  There 
is  an  overlapping  of  aims,  the  attainment  of 
one  end  being  a  stepping-stone  toward  the 
realisation  of  another,  which  is  higher  and 

>  op.  cit.,  p.  337. 


Symbolisation 


65 


more  comprehensive.  Hence  appeasement 
and  expectation  often  coexist,  a  partial  satis- 
faction preparing  the  way  for  a  more  emphatic 
effort.  Provisional  endings  or  attainments 
give  way  to  periods  of  full-blast  energy,  in 
which  both  music  and  life  are  at  a  white  heat 
of  effort  and  emotion.  Subsidence  follows: 
but  there  is  no  absolute  repose;  new  ends 
already  appear  in  the  background,  and  anon 
the  movement  recommences.  An  example 
will  make  the  matter  clearer : 


P2 


w=?5=? 


qn^;; 


Schubert,  Serenade. 
3 


3 


:it:c; 


±±2 


u^  ^-i^^.r  ttt±i=^m^r^^i-A 


13 


14 


15 


16 


Measure   i  may  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of 
enunciation    or    statement,    an    entrance    of 


66      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

actors,  with  no  purpose  or  end  as  yet  clearly 
indicated.  In  measure  2  the  statement 
grows  more  involved,  and  a  tendency  to 
resolve  it  becomes  apparent.  The  resolution 
comes  in  measure  3;  the  note  A,  especially, 
has  a  goal-like  character,  being  the  logical 
outcome  of  the  preceding  notes,  the  point 
toward  which  they  were  moving.  It  is  not 
the  complete  goal,  however,  but  requires  the 
whole  of  the  third  and  fourth  measures  to 
produce  entire  satisfaction;  even  while  we 
welcome  its  arrival  we  look  forward  to  its 
supplementation  in  the  following  notes.  At 
the  end  of  measure  4,  then,  there  is  a 
temporary  halt;  we  have  finished  the  first 
cycle  of  activity  and  stop  to  realise  our  prog- 
ress. But  our  repose  is  only  temporary. 
Satisfaction  is  already  intermingled  with  the 
anticipation  of  further  developments,  and 
our  contentment  resembles  a  storing  of  force, 
a  strengthening  readiness  for  coming  efforts. 
In  measure  7,  then,  the  effort  is  renewed 
with  heightened  energy.  We  have  a  feeling, 
too,  that  it  will  be  effective  enough  to  break 
through  the  barriers  of  key  and  lead  to  new 
realms  of  activity:  the  first  six  measures,  we 
feel,  were  only  a  preparation  for  the  events  to 


Symbolisation  67 

come.  Measure  8  continues  the  movement  and 
measures  9-10  realise  our  expectations :  we  are 
v/ell  out  in  the  sea  of  activity  and  experience 
satisfaction  at  the  progress  of  events.  But 
again  our  satisfaction  is  only  the  prelude  of 
renewed  activity,  which  in  measure  13  makes 
its  entrance  with  a  vigour  and  strenuousness 
even  beyond  that  of  the  previous  bars. 

Finally,  after  the  end  of  the  piece  is  reached, 
after  the  last  satisfying  chords  have  been 
played,  do  we  experience  unalloyed  content-; 
ment?  Having  attained  our  end,  may  we! 
revel  in  continued,  unending  delight?  Farj 
from  it.  A  dwelling  on  the  final  chord  wouldj 
mean  intolerable  monotony:  either  we  must| 
turn  away  from  the  music  altogether,  or 
begin  again  with  dissonance,  effort,  and  strife. 
In  life,  too,  there  is  a  constant  passage  from 
one  desire  and  its  realisation  to  another.  We 
sometimes  delude  ourselves  into  the  belief 
that  the  attainment  of  this  or  that  end  will 
be  the  termination  of  all  activity :  our  desires 
will  once  for  all  be  satisfied  and  bliss  will 
begin  an  unending  reign  in  our  bosom.  But 
we  are  the  dupe  of  an  illusion;  for  our  end, 
once  attained,  loses  all  the  charm  which  it 
possessed  in  the  distance,  and  lo!  off  yonder 


68      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

another  goal  has  appeared,  beckoning  to  us 
with  alluring  promise. 

Although  Schopenhauer's  theory  is  fan- 
tastic, then,  in  its  cosmical  analogies,  the 
parallelism  which  it  traces  between  melody 
and  human  life  is  profoundly  significant. 
Closely  related  to  this  theory  is  the  one  pro- 
posed by  Lotze.  It  has  been  stated  so 
vaguely  by'^its  author  that  it  is  difficult  to 
seize  its  substance.  The  function  of  music 
seems  to  be  located  in  the  representation  of 
the  types  or  moulds  of  events,  the^ormulae 
according  to  which  things  happen.  "If  we 
find  ourselves  reaching  a  long  desired  goal 
through  incessant  consistency  of  action,  we 
do  not  merely  value  the  definite  advantage 
which  accrues  to  us  through  the  attainment 
of  this  particular  aim,  but  we  rejoice  no  less 
in  the  thought  of  the  general  constancy  of 
the  world,  which  renders  it  possible  for  steady 
consistency  to  be  successful  ...  if  we  sur- 
vey the  world  in  its  totality  and  find  that  it 
does  not  disintegrate  into  lawless  diversity, 
but  that  fixed  classes  of  beings,  related  to 
one  another  with  difTerent  degrees  of  afBnity, 
develop,  each  according  to  its  kind,  and  that 
each  finds  in  the  surrounding  external  world 


Symbolisation  69 

the  sufficient  conditions  of  its  development, 
we  retain  of  this  picture,  long  after  we  have 
forgotten  the  single  features,  the  image  of  a 
harmonious  whole,  in  which  every  single 
living  instinct  does  not  exhaust  itself,  solitary 
and  forlorn,  in  emptiness,  but  in  which  each 
may  hope  to  find  accompanying  tendencies, 
which  support  it,  strengthen  it,  and  lead  it  to 
the  goal.  And  this  grand  panorama  can 
hardly  be  referred  to  without  spontaneously 
resolving  itself  into  music;  without  our  im- 
mediately becoming  aware  that  just  this  is 
the  object  of  the  art  of  tones, — to  express 
the  profound  joy  which  resides  in  this  con- 
stitution of  the  world,  and  of  which  the  pleas- 
ure of  every  single  empirical  feeling  is  only  a 
particular  reflection.  ...  So  we  fully  agree  1 
.  .  .  that  music  directly  reproduces  only  the 
dynamic  aspect  of  the  events  which  hap-  j 
pen,  only  the  figures  of  their  happening ;  but 
we  do  not  regard  the  value  of  these  fig- 
ures as  inherent;  they  appear  beautiful  by 
awakening  the  memory  of  the  countless 
blessings  that  are  imaginable  in  the  same 
rhythms  of  happening,  and  only  in  them."^  I 

<  Lotzc,  Geschichte  der  Aesthetik  in  Deutschland,  Munich,    ' 
1868,  p.  485  et  scq. 


7o      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

This  is  evidently  an  approximation  to  the 
theory  of  the  great  pessimist,  with  the  fan- 
tastic elements  left  out.  *'  All  possible  efforts, 
excitements,  and  manifestations  of  will," 
corroborates  Schopenhauer,  "all  that  goes 
on  in  the  heart  of  man  .  .  .  may  be  ex- 
pressed by  the  infinite  number  of  possible 
melodies,  but  always  in  the  universal,  in  the 
mere  form,  without  the  material."^ 

It  behoves  us  now  to  ask:  what  are  the 
figures  of  happening;  what  is  implied  in  the 
universal,  in  the  mere  form  without  the  material  ? 
Something  similar,  it  would  seem,  to  that 
embodied  in  the  symbols  of  algebra  or  logic. 
The  logical  formulae  express  no  definite  truths, 
but  represent  the  types  of  all  correct  reasoning ; 
land  so  music  might  be  supposed  to  express 
life  in  its  general  features :  desire,  strife,  attain- 
ment, joy,  sadness,  languor,  victory  in  general, 
but  not  this  or  that  particular  feeling  or  oc- 
icurrence.  It  brings  to  view  what  the  various 
bccurrences  have  in  common,  the  rhythm  or 
mould  of  their  happening. 
^  But  this,  too,  is  no  exact  definition.  Let 
us  attempt  to  formulate  such  a  definition,  by 

1  op.  cit.,  p.  339. 


Symbolisation  71 

extending  the  theories  just  considered,   and 
expressing  them  in  more  specific  terms, 

MUSIC    AS    A    DELINEATION    OF    LIFE    IN    PE_R- 

When  we  go  up  in  a  balloon,  the  aspects  of 
nature  undergo  transformation.  The  broad, 
pond-like  river  changes  into  a  shining  rib- 
bon, the  forest  is  transformed  into  a  dark 
patch.  And  if  we  could  continue  our  journey, 
well  on  toward  the  moon,  the  change  would  be 
greater  still:  small  streams,  forests,  ponds, 
and  hills  would  disappear,  and  in  their  place 
the  larger  features  of  the  earth's  surface — the 
mountain  ranges,  continents,  and  oceans — 
would  come  to  view.  What  would  be  the 
impression  if  we  could  similarly  perceive  life 
in  perspective?  Is  there  any  product  of  hu- 
man endeavour  which  could  furnish  a  clew  to 
the  answer?  Verbal  expositions — in  prose  or 
poetry — reproduce  a  man's  career  in  features 
of  any  desirable  breadth  or  minuteness,  but 
the  result  is  a  conceptual,  not  a  perceptual 
product;  it  corresponds  to  the  verbal  descrip- 
tion of  a  landscape  or  a  house,  while  we 
demand  an  actual  picture,  similar  to  the  dup- 


72       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

lications  of  painting  and  photography.  The 
drama,  it  is  true,  reproduces  directly,  but  its 
delineations  are  in  life-size,  not  in  perspective. 
The  events  which  are  portrayed  occupy  as 
much  time  as  they  would  in  reality,  the  con- 
densation of  longer  periods  being  effected 
by  choosing  salient,  important  occurrences 
and  skipping  over  what  is  intermediate.  Is 
it  impossible,  then,  to  give  an  actual,  con- 
tracted delineation  of  life,  corresponding  to 
the  maps  and  perspectives  of  the  graphical 
art? 

Let  us  see  whether  music  does  not  fulfil  the 
J,  necessary  requirements.  Being  temporal  in 
nature,  it  satisfies  the  first  condition.  Again, 
its  tonal  material  is  admirably  adapted  for 
the  reflection  of  mental  and  emotional  devel- 
opments. There  is  no  resemblance  between 
the  word  "contentment"  and  the  condition 
it  signifies.  But  when  the  string  orchestra 
plays  a  sustained  A  major  chord,  possibly 
accompanied  by  delicate  trills  in  the  flutes  and 
clarinets,  we  have  a  tolerably  good  represen- 
tation of  this  condition.  And  when  the  chord 
changes  to  minor,  there  is  a  simulation  of 
states  which  are  more  elegiac  and  melancholy 
in  nature.     Indeed,  single  tones  already  serve 


Symbolisation  73 

tolerably  well  as  reflections  of  feeling:  a  pro- 
longed note  on  the  violin  is  analogous  to  the 
state  of  contentment,  a  tone  on  the  English 
horn  approaches  the  effect  produced  by  the 
minor  chord.  Continuing,  we  find  excellent 
delineative  helps  in  shadings  of  force.  Loud 
tones  answer  to  forcible  manifestations  of  life, 
soft  tones  correspond  to  gentler  conditions, 
crescendos  and  diminuendos  imitate  an  increase 
or  decrease  in  the  strength  of  feeling.  Char- 
acteristics of  tempo  and  rhythm  indicate  the 
slower  or  faster  pace  of  a  man's  experiences, 
and  exhibit  the  hesitations,  pauses,  and  pre- 
cipitate advances  which  may  break,  retard, 
or  accelerate  them.  Measure  corresponds  to 
the  regular  succession  of  physical  and  physio- 
logical conditions, — night  and  day,  hunger 
and  satisfaction;  harmony  and  counterpoint 
to  the  variety  of  events  which  develop  side 
by  side.  But  most  important  of  all  is  melody. 
Schopenhauer  has  shown  how  admirably  the 
melodic  progression,  with  its  alternating 
agreement  and  disagreement,  answers  to  the 
fluctuating  course  of  experience.  Here,  then, 
we  have  a  means  of  depicting  the  higher 
aspects  of  life:  purpose,  volition,  attainment. 
It  is  impossible  to  put  a  limit  on  the  extent 


74       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

of  the  correspondence.  Perhaps  even  the 
regular  succession  of  intervals  in  the  scale 
may  find  its  parallel  in  life.  Psychology  offers 
an  analogous  case.  An  increase  of  stimula- 
tion in  an  organ  of  sense  is  not  accompanied 
by  a  similar  increase  in  the  intensity  of 
sensation:  while  the  stimulation  accumu- 
lates without  interruption,  the  sensation  ad- 
vances by  pulsations;  or  leaps.  The  result 
is  a  gamut  of  feelings,  accompanying  the 
continuum  of  physical  influence.  Is  it  incon- 
ceivable that  a  similar  condition  prevails  in 
the  case  of  life?  Although  one  situation 
seems  to  grow  out  of  another  without  break 
or  interruption,  might  not  a  broader  view 
gain  the  impression  of  a  serial  advance, 
corresponding  to  the  broken  progression  of 
the  scale  ? 

In  fact,  there  are  certain  phenomena  in  life 
which  already  show  a  rough  correspondence 
to  those  of  the  scale.  A  diatonic  progression 
does  not  merely  produce  more  or  less  of  the 
same  sensation:  the  octave,  for  example,  does 
not  differ  from  the  fifth  solely  because  it  is 
higher;  while  the  fifth  embodies  a  distinct 
opposition  to  the  fundamental,  the  octave 
agrees    with    the   fundamental.     The  fourth, 


Symbolisation  75 

again,  though  situated  between  the  third  and 
the  fifth,  by  no  means  shares  their  quahties,  but 
produces  an  effect  which  is  unique  and  which  1 
belongs  only  to  itself.  In  life,  too,  augmenta-  \ 
tions  of  feeling  or  stimulation  do  not  always  ' 
produce  greater  quantities  of  the  same  feeling. 
A  point  arrives  where  the  feeling  begins  to 
alter,  or  even  develops  into  its  opposite. 
Pleasure  becomes  pain,  sorrow  turns  into  des- 
peration. Interest  grows  to  a  culmination, 
then  wanes,  and  finally  sinks  into  indifference. 
There  are  qualitative  differences,  indeed, 
which  show  a  decided  resemblance  to  those 
of  the  scale.  Is  it  absurd  to  suppose  that 
there  may  be  an  affinity  between  the  two 
sets  of  phenomena? 

Having  developed  the  correspondence  from  . 
the  musical  side,  let  us  now  reverse  the  pro-  ! 
cedure,  and  endeavour  to  outline  the  aspects  of  \ 
life  when  seen  under  the  conditions  postulated. 
How  would  life  appear  if  it  could  be  viewed 
in  perspective,  the  events  sweeping  past  at  a 
quickened  rate?     In  the  first  place  the  details 
would  drop  out  of  sight, — the  speeches  and 
gestures,  the  duties  of  the  hour,  and  in  gen- 
eral all  those  smaller  activities  which  merely 
form  the  fringes  of  the  larger  currents.     In- 


76      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

stead,  streams  of  tendency  would  come  to 
view,  surgings  to  and  fro,  obstructed  efforts, 
precipitate  advances,  victorious  emergences, 
expectations,  hesitations,  and  satisfactions. 
And  is  not  music  admirably  adapted  to  form 
picture  of  all  these  things?  How  better 
reproduce  longing  and  expectation,  with  its 
(resulting  satisfaction,  than  by  means  of  a 
'  (sustained  dominant,  followed  by  the  resolving 
'tonic?  Is  not  the  following  passage  a  superb 
reproduction  of  vigorous  effort,  fighting  its 
way  through  obstruction,  and  climbing  to 
victory  and  light? 


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Symbolisation 


77 


An  analogous  case  is  to  be  found  in  the 
transition  from  the  third  to  the  last  move- 
ment of  Beethoven's  fifth  symphony,  from 
which  the  above  example  is  taken.  And 
still  confining  ourselves  to  the  same  com- 
position, we  may  depict  the  emergence 
from  troubling  religious  doubt  to  the  cer- 
tainty of  faith,  from  sickness  to  health,  or 
from  want  to  independence,  covering  months 
or  years  of  time,  by  means  of  the  following 
chords : 


78      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


In  life,  as  in  the  tones  of  this  example,  we 
often  have  an  exacerbation,  a  crisis,  just 
before  the  deliverance.  To  be  sure,  it  is 
doubtful  whether  life  would  resolve  itself 
into  an  exact  counterpart  of  music,  with 
measures  and  phrases,  augmented  triads  and 
changing  notes;  but  something  analogous  to 
the  tonal  progressions — something  correspond- 
ing to  the  agreements  and  dissonances,  the 
struggles  and  victories — would  probably  come 
to  view.^ 

To  render  the  psychological  aspect  of  the 
matter  clearer,  let  us  consider  what  may 
be  called  the  perspective  of  memory.  We 
reproduce  the  events  ot'  yesterday  in  their 
immediate,  life-size  dimensions :  we  recall  how 
we  jumped  out  of  bed,  breakfasted,  read  the 
paper,    began   our   work,    received   a   caller, 

»  See  Appendix  C. 


Symbolisation  79 

mailed  some  letters, — almost  as  if  we  were 
living  over  the  experiences  again.  The  in- 
terstices between  the  remembered  events  are 
small  in  dimension :  hours,  half-hoiirs,  and  min- 
utes. When  we  think  of  the  occurrences  of 
last  month,  however,  the  widening  has  already- 
begun:  we  no  longer  pass  from  the  events  of 
one  hour  or  minute  to  those  of  the  next,  but 
jump  from  day  to  day.  And  when  we  recur 
to  the  years  gone  by,  the  measure  has  grown 
to  such  an  extent  that  events  separated  by 
entire  years  pass  before  us  in  juxtapositions 
as  close  as  those  of  yesterday's  occurrences. 
Like  the  railway  tracks  over  which  we  are 
speeding,  the  time-lengths  shrink  together  as 
the  events  recede  into  the  past. 

The  process  is  clearly  exemplified  in  certain 
metaphors.  When  we  speak  of  the  early 
efforts  in  an  art  as  a  "twittering,"  or  charac- 
terise the  movements  of  a  wandering  tribe  as 
a  "restless  surging,"  we  are  viewing  the 
activities  in  perspective.  Originally  they  did 
not  make  the  impression  of  twitterings  and 
surgings,  but  when  they  are  seen  from  a  dis- 
tance they  move  together  and  assume  the 
aspects  embodied  in  the  figures  of  speech. 
Professor  Royce  informs  us  that  Schelling's 


.\ 


1 


80       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

"early  works  followed  one  another  like  light- 
ning flashes,  each  one  striking  in  a  new  and 
unexpected  place."  ^  And  a  biography  of 
Haydn  tells  us  that  at  one  time  the  composer 
"  thought  of  finding  some  less  precarious  means 
of  earning  enough  to  eat  and  drink  than  music 
presented,  and  for  a  moment  he  turned  his 
back  on  the  art  he  loved  so  well.  "2  In  reality 
the  works  of  Schelling  underwent  the  usual 
lengthy  process  of  publication  and  circulation, 
and  the  "moment"  of  the  composer  may 
have  covered  many  weeks  of  time. 

Why  do  these  figures  appeal  to  us?  Be- 
cause the  mind  is  prepared  for  their  reception, 
because  there  is  something  in  the  mind  that 
corresponds  to  the  motions  they  suggest. 
And  music,  according  to  our  hypothesis,  would 
please  for  the  same  reason.  Owing  to  the 
compression  of  events,  the  mind  is  ready  to 
duplicate  the  forms  of  motion  assumed  by 
experience  when  seen  in  perspective.  For 
experience  in  perspective  is  nothing  but 
(memory  at  a  distance.  Hence  music,  which 
simulates  the  larger  outlines  of  experience, 


«  Royce,  Studies  of  Good  and  Evil,  New  York,  1898,  p.  350. 
2  Famous    Composers  and  their  Works,  Boston  (copyright 
1891),  vol.  ii.,  p.  248. 


Symbolisation  8i 

agrees  with  the  course  of  thought  as  the  mind   I 
views  the  occurrences  of  the  past. 

The  theory  thus  developed  furnishes  an  ad- 
mirable explanation  of  the  mysterious  charm 
of  music.  It  often  seems  to  us,  when  lis- 
tening to  a  musical  composition,  as  if  we 
were  receiving  familiar  communications ;  like- 
wise the  feelings  aroused  are  apt  to  be  of  a 
composite  nature,  as  if  numerous  emotions 
and  experiences  were  being  blended  together. 
This  is  exactly  what  the  theory  would  lead  us 
to  expect.  Reproducing  life  in  perspective^ 
the  tones  tell  us  of  our  own  experiences ;  but 
the  diminution  in  size  forms  such  an  effective 
disguise  that  we  are  unable  to  recognise  any 
single  occurrences.  And  the  scale  of  repro- 
duction is  so  extensive  that  countless  experi- 
ences are  caught  up  in  progressions  covering 
but  little  time;  hence  the  peculiar  mixture  of  \ 
emotions. 

LAZARUS,  SULLY,   LIPPS,    MISS    PUFFER,   KASSEL 

Before  concluding  this  chapter  we  must 
briefly  review  several  other  theories  of  the 
symbolistic  type.  Lazarus  recognises  five 
sources  of  musical  pleasure,  three  of  which 
correspond    to    the    species    of    effectiveness 


82       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

touched  upon  in  the  three  preceding  chapters. 
More  important  than  all  of  these,  however, 
is  the  symbolic  element.  The  musical  forms 
are  not  only  perceived  as  such,  but  become 
"  symbols  of  plastic  forms  and  spiritual  move- 
ments"; they  affect  us  through  their  resem- 
blance to  non-musical  objects  and  happenings, 
and  hence  are  apprehended  as  "living,  ener- 
getic, and  ethical  beings  and  events. "  "  Grace, 
gentleness,  and  melancholy,  charm  and  emo- 
tion, profundity  and  high  sentiment,  dulness 
and  pedantry,  nobility  and  distinction  are 
ascribed  to  the  musical  as  to  the  poetical 
composition.  Tragedy  and  humour,  plain- 
tiveness  and  buffoonery,  laughing  and  weep- 
ing, exultation  and  grieving,  are  said  to 
receive  expression  and  portrayal.  .  .  .  Rich- 
ness of  colour,  festive  pomp,  gloomy  and 
cheerful,  rugged  and  harmonious  ilkimination 
are  seen  in  the  tones;  sweet  euphony,  rhyth- 
mical grace,  melodic  charm,  declamation, 
song,  poetry  are  heard  in  the  (instrumental) 
tones;  truth,  earnestness,  and  depth;  sensa- 
tions, feelings,  thoughts,  happenings,  and 
conditions  of  life  are  thought  in  them."^ 

1  Lazarus,  Das  Leben  der  Seele,  Berlin,  1897,  vol.  iii.,  p.  121 
et  seq. 


Symbolisation  8^ 

The  author  makes  no  attempt  to  point  out  r 
the  musical  features  on  which  these  quahties  i 
depend:  the  analogy  is  only  felt,  not  made  ( 
evident  to  the  understanding.     In  order  to  | 
complete  the  theory,  it  would  be  necessary 
to  indicate  specifically  what  tonal  combina- 
tions produce  the  effects  of  grace,  gentleness, 
nobility,  dulness,  truth,  depth,  and  so  forth, 
and  to  make  clear  why  they  do  so. 

The  theory  of  Lipps  is  similar.     The  essence  - 
of  music  is  supposed  to  lie  in  a  "psychical  j 
resonance,"  or  agreement  between  the  tonal 
forms  and  our  own  experience.     "Countless  i 
recollections,  ideas,  and  thoughts  potentially 
exist  in  us  whose  characteristic  it  is  to  run 
the    same    course  in    us    and    excite    us    in 
the  same  way  as  the  tones  and  their  total 
movement.      We    may    say  that  potentially 
many    'tones'    related    to  the  audible  ones 
always  exist  in  us,  which  are  ready  to  chime 
along.  "1 

According  to  Sully  there  are  three  sources/ 
of  musical  pleasure, — tone,  form,  and  sugges-i 
tion^     The  third  is  supposed  to  account  for\ 

«  Lipps,  Grundlegung  der  Aesthetik,  Hamburg  and  Leipzig, 
1903,  P-  480. 

'  Sully,  Sensation  and  Intuition,  London,   1880,  Essays  on 


84      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

most  of  the  peculiar  emotional  delight  gener- 
ated by  musical  compositions.  Although 
he  is  sane  and  fertile  in  his  reasoning  when 
he  deals  with  the  first  two  factors,  Sully 
appears  to  be  singularly  one-sided  in  regard 
to  the  third.  He  is  a  devoted  follower  of 
Spencer.  Beyond  form  and  nervous  stimu- 
lation he  sees  little  in  the  art  but  suggestions 
of  speech.  Everything  is  led  back  to  this 
one  source,  while  analogies  which  press  them- 
selves on  the  attention  are  ignored.  "The 
convergence  of  two  series  [of  tones]  from 
a  wide  interval  to  perfect  unison,  or  from 
greatly  unequal  to  equal  intensities  or  rapidi- 
ties ' '  is  supposed  to  have  its  prototype  in 
verbal  intercourse;  likewise  the  "similarities 
and  contrasts  in  the  pitch,  intensity,  direction 
of  interval,  and  rapidity  of  two  or  more  series 
of  tones."  That  is,  the  contrapuntal  inter- 
play of  themes,  which  is  beautiful,  borrows 
its  charm  from  the  melee  of  several  speakers, 
which  is  chaotic.  Contrasts  in  the  loudness, 
tempo,  and  character  of  different  sections  and 


"The  Basis  of  Musical  Sensation,"  "Aspects  of  Beauty  in 
Musical  Form,"  and  "On  the  Nature  and  Limits  of  Musical 
Expression. "  The  tonal  factor  includes  simple  combinations 
of  tones,  so  far  as  they  are  physiologically  effective. 


Symbolisation  85 

movements  are  explained  in  the  same  way, 
by  reference  to  the  vocal  accompaniments 
of  analogous  sequences  of  feeling.  It  does  not 
occur  to  the  author  to  compare  the  musical 
and  emotional  sequences  directly,  instead  of 
approaching  the  latter  by  means  of  the  words 
in  which  they  gain  utterance. 

The  trouble  with  Sully  is  that  he  persists 
in  leading  us  through  the  gate  of  speech,  when 
there  is  no  fence  to  prevent  direct  access  at 
any  point.  The  same  answer  can  be  made 
to  him  that  was  opposed  to  Spencer:  sym- 
bolisations  of  speech  contribute  to  musical 
delight,  but  do  not  exhaust  it. 

Miss  Puffer's  theory  may  be  regarded 
as  a  psychological  approach  to  the  theory 
of  Schopenhauer.^  The  essence  of  musical 
pleasure  is  supposed  to  reside  in  the  satis- 
faction of  the  will  as  it  is  embodied  in  the 
tones.  The  two  fundamental  aspects  of  the 
art  are  rhythm  and  tonality.  Both  of  these 
involve  a  satisfaction  of  expectation,  one  in 
the  regular  recurrence  of  beats,  the  other  in 
the  constant    return  to  the  key-note.     The 

«  Ethel  D.  Puffer,  The  Psychology  of  Beauty,  Boston  and 
New  York,  1905,  p.  151  et  seq.  The  classification  of  this 
theory  is  not  obvious.  In  certain  respects  the  theory 
resembles  those  of  the  parallelistic  type. 


8u      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

three  factors  of  volition — anticipation,  effort, 
and  realisation — are  reproduced  in  the  antici- 
pation of  the  tonal  and  rhythmical  termini, 
the  movement  toward  them,  and  their  final 
realisation  in  the  satisfying  notes.  Music 
thus  arouses  the  illusion  and  exaltation  of  the 
triumphant  will. 

Still  another  theory  is  that  of  Charles 
Kassel.^  Music  derives  its  charm,  according 
to  him,  from  its  resemblance  to  various  natural 
and  human  phenomena.  Mass  of  sound  finds 
its  prototype  in  the  "roar  of  preying  beast  or 
torrent — the  howl  and  shriek  of  wind  and 
wave — the  clap  and  growl  of  angry  skies"; 
height  and  shrillness  of  pitch  answer  to  great 
intensity  in  the  turmoil  of  the  elements, 
softness  and  moderation  of  tempo  to  gen- 
tler aspects  of  nature.  Human  utterances 
reinforce  this  association.  Rhythm,  on  the 
other  hand,  has  its  origin  in  the  regular  move- 
ments of  the  dance.  In  all  these  cases  ances- 
tral associations  are  involved,  explaining  the 
depth  and  mystery  of  the  musical  impression. 
We  may  ignore  the  disputed  nature  of 
inherited   associations,    and   agree   with   the 

1  Charles  Kassel,  "The  Psychology  of  Music,"  in  The  Open 
Court,  Nov.,  1908,  p.  650  et  seq. 


Symbolisation  87 

author  that  the  resemblances  he  points  out, 
novel  in  certain  respects,  are  efficacious  in 
fostering  musical  pleasure;  but  they  merely 
deal  with  a  secondary  aspect  of  the  problem.  ^ 
In  fact,  with  the  exception  of  rhythm,  the 
musical  factors  dwelt  upon  are  subordinate  in 
nature.  Force,  mass,  and  timbre  do  not  con- 
stitute the  essence  of  the  art ;  they  are  merely 
the  qualifying  adjuncts  of  melody  and  har- 
mony, which  are  to  be  regarded  as  the  essential 
factors,  and  which  have  not  been  accounted 
for  in  the  theory  under  consideration. 

GENERAL  REMARKS 

In  reviewing  the  theories  sketched  in  this 
chapter,  we  are  struck  by  the  variety  of 
explanations.  All  are  valid  to  a  certain 
degree,  and  contribute  to  an  elucidation  of 
the  problem;  but  they  err  whenever  they 
undertake  to  give  a  complete  solution,  and 
advance  their  claims  to  the  'exclusion  of  other 
theories.  The  shortcomings,  too,  are  varied. 
Spencer  and  Sully  are  narrow  in  their  symbol- 
isations.  Lipps  and  Lazarus  arc  wide,  but 
do  not  trace  the  correspondences  in  detail. 
Kassel    lays    the    emphasis    on    accessories. 


88       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

From  this  point  of  view  Schopenhauer,  Lotze, 
Miss  Puffer,  and  the  perspective  theory  seem 
to  have  the  advantage:  dealing  with  essen- 
tials, they  gain  a  more  universal  application. 

Symbolisation,  according  to  most  of  the 
writers  considered,  accounts  for  the  deepest 
charm  of  the  art.  Formal  relations  and  ele- 
mentary qualities  may  arouse  a  fair  degree 
of  pleasure,  but  the  innermost  springs  of 
emotion  are  only  touched  by  the  significance 
of  the  tones.     This  calls  for  some  remarks. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  profound  emotions 
are  awakened  by  the  perception  of  symbolic 
values;  in  fact,  the  feelings  often  swell  per- 
ceptibly with  the  recognition  of  meaning. 
On  the  other  hand  it  is  by  no  means  true  that 
there  must  be  a  consciousness  of  definite 
significance  in  order  that  enjoyment  may  be 
reaped.  Persons  differ  immensely  in  the 
amount  of  meaning  which  they  extract  from 
musical  compositions.  In  fact,  two  pieces 
successively  heard  by  the  same  person  may 
be  effective  in  entirely  different  ways, — one 
arousing  definite  images,  and  the  other 
pleasing  by  the  sheer  force  of  its  melodies 
and  harmonies.  Here,  however,  we  are  con- 
fronted with  the  possibility  of  unconscious 


Symbolisation  89 

symboHsation.  Like  the  word  ghoul,  a  thing 
may  be  significant  even  though  we  are  not 
distinctly  aware  of  it.  Hence  music,  too, 
may  please  through  the  arousal  of  subcon- 
scious memories.  Whether  it  actually  does 
so  or  not,  of  course,  remains  a  question  as  yet. 
Meanwhile,  another  difficulty  arises.  Is 
the  symbolisation  pervasive  enough  to  ac- 
count for  the  steady,  continuing  charm  of 
lengthy  compositions  ?  Will  it  not  give  out 
in  places  ?  And  if  it  does,  to  what  source  shall 
we  attribute  the  charm  which  continues  una- 
bated ?  The  symbolisations  which  have  been 
indicated  mostly  resemble  patches ;  they  form 
no  system,  no  plot  or  plan,  accompanying  a 
work  from  beginning  to  end;  they  only  guar- 
antee a  fitful  enjoyment,  a  fragment  here, 
a  gleam  there,  but  no  growing,  organic  exal- 
tation like  that  actually  afforded  by  musical 
compositions.  To  be  sure,  there  is  an  irra- 
diation of  delight ;  like  visual  after-images,  the 
glows   arising  from  the   recognition  of  sym- 

ibolic  affinities  linger  on;  grasping  hands  over 
the  unsymbolic  gaps,  they  tend  to  spread 
over  the  entire  composition.  Notwithstand- 
ing, they  are  too  uncertain  to  serve  as  the 
basis  of  musical  enjoyment.     They  may  and 


90      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

they  may  not  be  generated  in  the  mind; 
whereas  the  peculiar  musical  beauty,  depend- 
ing on  melody,  harmony,  and  rh3rthm,  is 
unfailing  in  its  effect  if  the  mind  is  open  to 
enjoyment  at  all. 

We  do  not,  to  be  sure,  share  the  views  of 
those  sestheticians  who  would  exclude  all  as- 
sociative pleasure  from  the  sphere  of  beauty. 
Associations  and  symbolisms  may  not  objec- 
tively be  apparent  in  a  work  of  art,  but  if  they 
are  infallibly  aroused  during  its  enjoyment, 
they  are  valid  elements  of  beauty.  A  poem 
on  paper  may  be  compared  to  an  inactive 
piece  of  fireworks;  there  are  no  sparks  and 
colours  in  it  to  dazzle  and  delight  the  eye: 
but  read  it,  enjoy  it,  set  it  into  action,  and 
the  associations,  like  flashes,  begin  to  appear. 
There  is  a  "permanent  possibihty  "  of  sugges- 
tive pleasure  in  the  work,  which  is  as  impor- 
tant as  the  symmetries  more  directly  apparent. 

The  trouble  with  the  musical  symbolisms, 
however,  is  that  they  are  not  infallibly  and 
exhaustively  aroused;  they  do  not  saturate  a 
composition  down  to  its  ultimate  components ; 
they  are  not  connected  with  those  intimate 
factors  of  musical  structure  which  form  the 
soul  of  the  art.     Melody  and  harmony  seem 


Symbolisation  91 

to  please  directly,  without  necessary  refer- 
ence to  external  facts.  It  remains  for  musical 
histology  to  prove  that  this  is  not  the  case, 
and  that,  while  we  seem  to  be  enjoying  irre- 
ducible, meaningless  combinations  of  tones, 
we  are  really  moved  by  subtle  hints  of  signifi- 
cance. Until  this  is  done,  we  must  deny  that 
symbolisation  accounts  for  the  essential  charm 
of  the  art.^ 

1  See  Appendix  D. 


I 


V 

TONAL  AND  MENTAL  PARALLELISM 

N  his  Laocoon,  Lessing  develops  the  idea 
of  correspondence  between  the  structure 
of  a  work  of  art  and  the  mental  nature 
I  of  the  percipient.  Poetry,  he  declares,  is  not 
adapted  for  the  portrayal  of  stationary  bodies 
because,  while  the  constituents  of  a  material 
thing  are  perceived  simultaneously,  the  ele- 
ments of  poetry  succeed  one  another  in  time. 
The  office  of  painting,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  to  copy  the  immutable,  the  depiction  of 
actions  and  events  falling  beyond  its  domain. 
Writers  on  music  have  appropriated  this 
important  principle  for  the  explanation  of 
musical  charm.  Von  Dommer  invokes  it  in 
his  Elemente  der  Musik.  Haweis  works  it  out 
in  detail.^  Emotion  is  characterised,  accord- 
ing to  him,  by  five  qualities :  elation  and  depres- 
sion, velocity,  intensity,  variety,  and  form. 
\}l^     The  first  element  receives  expression  in  pitch, 

»  Haweis,  Music  and  Morals,  New  York,  p.  2%  et  seq. 
92 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism       93 

the  higher  notes  within  an  octave  answering 
to  elation,  the  lower  ones  to  depression. 
Velocity  is  matched  by  the  different  lengths 
of  the  individual  notes  and  their  prevailing 
rate  of  succession,  or  tempo.  Intensity  finds 
a  natural  counterpart  in  the  degrees  of  force. 
Variety  becomes  evident  in  the  simultaneous 
progression  of  several  parts,  and  emotional 
form  is  duplicated  in  musical  form. 

Vischer  goes  still  further.  In  his  opinion 
music  is  so  faithful  a  reflection  of  the  emotions 
that  it  ought  to  be  utilised  in  their  study. 
Pitch,  force,  colour,  measure,  tempo,  melody, , 
and  harmony  are  some  of  the  musical  factors ; 
which  are  foreshadowed  in  the  realm  of  feeling. 
In  the  case  of  colour  and  measure  the  emo- 
tional prototype  is  not  indicated,  but  merely 
postulated  on  general  principles. 

Without  repudiating  the  opinions  of  these 
writers,  and  granting  full  recognition  to  the 
facts  which  they  bring  to  view,  let  us  widen 
the  scope  of  inquiry,  and  trace  the  analogies 
between  music  and  the  mental  flow  in  its 
entirety.  Since  the  emotions  reside  in  the 
mind,  this  will  involve  no  conflict  with  the 
view  according  to  which  the  tones  form  a 
duplication  of  the  feelings. 


94      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

This  mode  of  explanation  must  be  distin- 
guished from  the  one  developed  in  the  last 
chapter.  Symbolisation  is  a  kind  of  delinea- 
tion. The  tones  imitate  certain  human  or 
natural  phenomena,  and  hold  them  up  as 
duplications;  and  the  mind  recognises  them 
-4as  such  or  at  least  tends  to  do  so.  In  the 
case  of  parallelism,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
can  hardly  speak  of  imitation,  but  rather  of 
agreement.  The  tones  harmonise  with  the 
operations  of  the  mind,  a  relation  which  is  not 
supposed  to  become  an  object  of  cognition. 
We  can  symbolise  the  steps  of  a  pedestrian 
by  graphically  suggesting  their  movements, 
or  imitating  their  sounds;  parallelism,  on  the 
other  hand,  would  be  typified  by  actually 
moving  up  to  the  pedestrian  and  keeping  step 
with  him. 

The  first  and  most  general  correspondence 
between  the  realms  of  tone  and  thought  is  to 
be  found  in  the  succession  and  simultaneity 
characterising  them  both.  Both  music  and 
mind  are  essentially  temporal  in  nature :  ideas 
succeed  one  another,  tone  follows  tone.  Sec- 
ondarily both  are  composed  of  simultaneous 
members, — music  spreading  out  into  a  net- 
work of  themes  and  voices,  mind  unfolding 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism       95 

into  a  spectrum  of  thoughts  and  feelings.  \ 
Music  thus  possesses  the  general  qualifications  r 
for  a  reflection  of  thought;  it  forms  a  suit-  1 
able  background  for  the  mental  photograph. 

Beginning  with  the  elements  of  the  photo- 
graph itself,  we  meet  with  air-vibrations  as 
the  ultimate  constituents  of  tones,  and  vibra- 
tions in  the  nerves  and  brain-tracts  as  the 
physiological  substratum  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing. In  both  cases  the  oscillations  are  so 
minute  and  rapid  as  to  elude  observation. 

Their  products  are  characterised  by  differ- 
ences of  intensity,  apparent  on  the  one  hand 
in  shadings  of  tonal  loudness,  on  the  other  in 
degrees  of  conscious  force  or  vividness.  Our 
feelings  may  be  strong  or  weak,  energetic  or 
subdued;  now  they  swell  with  power,  now 
break  forth  into  chord-like  outbursts,  and 
anon  subside  into  mild  pianissimos. 

Likewise  there  are  shadings  of  tempo.  The 
metronome  could  as  appropriately  be  applied  j 
to  the  mental  as  to  the  musical  domain. 
Some  people's  thoughts  progress  at  a  heavy 
largo  rate,  others  trip  along  in  merry  allegros. 
In  the  individual,  too,  ideas  sometimes  relapse 
into  a  state  of  inertness,  as  if  grazing  in  the 
pastures  of  meditation ;  then  again  they  hurry 


96      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

along,  trip  each  other  up  with  feverish  haste, 
and  dash  forward  in  headlong,  irrepressible 
flight.  We  have  our  ritenutos  and  acceler- 
andos,  our  ominous  pauses,  and  remonstrating 
hesitations. 

Not  so  apparent  are  the  mental  counter- 
parts of  the  more  formal  factors, — measure, 
melody,  harmony,  and  counterpoint.  Where, 
indeed,  shall  we  look  for  such  distinct  and 
well-defined  phenomena  in  the  operations  of 
the  mind  ?  The  mind  resembles  a  stream,  with 
none  of  the  sharp  cleavages  characteristic  of 
tonal  combinations.  Yet  they  may  be  there 
under  the  surface,  undifferentiated  and  un- 
distinguished. Music  may  be  a  prism,  sepa- 
rating and  spreading  out  the  rays  which  in 
the  soul  are  perceived  as  homogeneous  white 
light.  It  exhibits  the  overtones,  which  are 
entirely  immersed  in  the  fundamentals  of 
feeling,  and  are  experienced  merely  as  quality 
or  timbre. 

Measure  seems  to  offer  insuperable  diffi- 
culties. Our  mental  life  assumes  the  form 
of  a  continuous,  uninterrupted  current,  with- 
out sudden  breaks  or  jars.  But  we  must 
remember  that  the  mental  life  contains  a 
good  deal  that  is  unconscious  or  only  semi- 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism       97 

conscious.  If  we  could  take  a  peep  under- 
neath the  threshold  of  sensibility,  we  might 
find  the  object  of  our  search.  If  we  could 
raise  the  whole  activity  of  the  brain  into 
consciousness,  we  should  discover  measure  in 
those  of  its  functions  which  regulate  the  heart, 
the  lungs,  and  numerous  voluntary  muscles. 
To  be  sure,  we  may  not  as  a  rule  be  aware  of 
this  rhythm;  but,  strange  as  it  may  sound,  the 
rhythmical  aspect  of  music  is  also  predomi- 
nantly subconscious  in  its  effect.  We  seldom 
pay  any  direct  attention  to  it;  we  are  often 
unable  to  tell  whether  a  piece  that  we  have 
just  heard  was  in  double  or  triple  time,  and  a 
question  concerning  this  point  is  likely  to 
catch  us  napping.  Measure  thus  occupies 
the  same  place  in  the  perception  of  tonal 
forms  as  its  counterpart  in  the  flow  of  mental 
functions. 

Totally  opposed  to  it,  in  conscious  promi- 
nence, is  the  melodic  aspect  of  the  art. 
Whereas  measure  rarely  becomes  an  object 
of  direct  attention,  melody  is  always  in  the 
glowing  centre  of  mental  vision.  In  looking 
Tor  its  analogue,  accordingly,  we  ovight  to 
turn  to  the  foremost  elements  of  our  mental 
life,    which    form    the    centre    of    conscious 


98       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

interest.  Melody,  indeed,  ought  to  corre- 
spond to  the  definite  sensations  and  ideas 
aroused  in  us  by  external  objects,  or  evoked 
by  memory  and  imagination.  Here,  it  must 
be  confessed,  the  correspondence  fails.  If 
the  sequence  of  thoughts  which  fills  our  mind 
from  minute  to  minute  bears  any  close 
resemblance  to  melodic  structure,  it  is  so 
Subtle  that  nobody  has  yet  been  able  to  detect 
it.  However,  is  it  necessary  to  trace  an 
analogy?  May  not  the  mental  phenomenon 
and  the  musical  counterpart  here  melt  to- 
gether ?  May  not  the  melody  be  substituted 
for  the  important  train  of  thought  which  it  is 
supposed  to  mirror  ?  In  the  case  of  measure, 
force,  and  tempo,  music  duplicates  or  photo- 
graphs the  mind;  in  the  case  of  melody,  it 
coincides  with  it. 

After  melody  comes  harmony.  We  may 
approach  it  by  means  of  timbre,  with  which 
it  has  much  in  common.  Timbre  is  incipi- 
ent harmony,  harmony  is  developed  timbre. 
Both  have  the  same  physical  foundation, 
being  based  on  the  simultaneous  resonance  of 
several  tones;  only  in  timbre  the  tones  are 
not  separately  distinguished,  but  are  enclosed 
in  the   fundamentals,   which   they  serve  to 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism       99 

enrich.  In  their  general  "colour-effect,"  as 
well,  timbre  and  harmony  are  similar.  To 
be  sure,  there  are  important  differences 
between  the  two,  but  these  need  not  occupy 
us  for  the  present. 

Timbre  is  due  to  the  presence,  in  a  tone, 
of  various  higher  tones  or  partials;  though 
usually  too  weak  to  be  distinguished  by  the 
unaided  ear,  these  can  readily  be  detected 
with  the  help  of  artificial  devices.  What  is 
its  mental  counterpart?  Let  us  seek  an 
answer  by  asking  another  question.  What 
constitutes  the  difference  between  the  words 
sweat  and  perspire,  hug  and  embrace?  What 
imparts  such  a  characteristic  effect  respec- 
tively to  castle,  palace,  mansion,  manse,  cottage, 
villa?  Why  do  wine  and  champagne  lend 
themselves  so  readily  to  poetic  use,  while 
beer  and  whiskey  make  a  prosaic  impression? 
Why  do  the  botanic  names  of  flowers  appeal 
to  us  less  sweetly  than  those  of  colloquial  use  ? 
What  is  there  in  the  names  of  the  old  Norse 
gods  and  heroes  that  exercises  such  a  power- 
ful spell  over  the  imagination? 

There  is  something  about  these  words  very 
similar  to  the  effect  of  timbre.  I  lere,  likewise, 
there   are   certain   overtones   present   in    the 


loo     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

fundamentals  (or  words),  which  suffuse  them 
with  a  halo  of  sentiment.  When  we  read 
about  cottages,  the  stories  of  humble  peasant- 
life,  and  the  country  drives  which  have  led 
us  past  cosy  homes,  exist  in  the  mind  as 
overtones;  when  we  see  the  word  castle,  the 
tales  of  the  robber-knights  and  legends  of 
the  Rhine  operate  to  produce  a  rich  funda- 
mental; with  villa  the  recollection  of  velvety 
lawns,  spirited  horses,  and  fashionable  car- 
riages is  awakened ;  wine  lends  itself  to  poetic 
use  partly  because  it  is  associated  with  simny 
vineyards  and  dancing  vintners,  partly  be- 
cause it  has  frequently  been  invoked  by 
poets ;  beer  and  whiskey  lack  these  overtones, 
contributed  by  natural  scenes  and  existing 
poems.  And  the  same  principle  applies  to 
all  the  other  words  as  well. 

So  far  as  harmony  resembles  timbre,  it  may 
be  said  to  have  a  similar  counterpart.  A 
harmonic  accompaniment  often  serves  to 
lend  a  peculiar  cast  to  a  melody ;  this  is  true, 
for  example,  when  a  melody  which  was  first 
played  in  major  appears  in  minor,  or  when 
the  harmony  has  an  Oriental  tinge.  The 
resulting  effect  is  not  radically  different  from 
that  produced  by  an  odd  instrumental  colour. 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism       loi 

And  the  mental  parallel  may  be  sought  in 
those  cases  where  a  thought  is  conveyed  so  as 
to  exhale  a  particular  sentiment, — where 
it  has  a  melancholy,  humorous,  or  cynical 
character,  as  the  case  may  be.  In  one  impor- 
tant respect,  however,  harmony  is  different: 
it  forms  an  integral  adjunct  of  melody,  and 
helps  to  determine  the  melodic  progression.  \ 
The  harmony  of  the  dominant  not  only  forms 
a  timbre-like  background  for  the  melodic  note, 
but  likewise  guides  the  transition  to  the  en- 
suing tonic.  We  must  seek  for  an  analogue, 
then,  in  those  aspects  of  mind  which  are  sec- 
ondary and  qualifying  in  nature,  and  yet  have 
a  determining  influence  on  the  central  current 
of  thought.  The  subject  is  difficult,  and  a  few 
hints  must  suffice  in  lieu  of  an  explanation. 
The  sentence  "I  ignored  him"  conveys  a 
definite  thought;  but  this  thought  may  be 
coloured  differently,  or  even  assume  a  differ- 
ent significance,  according  to  the  by-thoughts 
which  cluster  about  it.  The  meaning  will 
vary  according  as  I  say  "Although  he  was 
there.  Despite  my  inclination,  or  On  general 
principles — I  ignored  him."  Roughly  speak- 
ing, harmony  may  be  said  to  correspond  to 
what  Professor  James  has  styled  the  fringe  of 


I02      The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

thought.  Like  this  it  "blends  with  and 
suffuses  and  alters"  the  effect  of  the  melodic 
notes.  For  this  reason,  too,  it  is  admirably- 
adapted  for  the  elaboration  of  some  of  Pro- 
fessor James's  examples.  "  Suppose, "says  this 
writer,  "three  successive  persons  say  to  us: 
'Wait!'  'Hark!'  'Look!'  Our  consciousness 
is  thrown  into  three  quite  different  attitudes 
of  expectancy,  although  no  definite  object 
is  before  it  in  any  one  of  the  three  cases.  "^ 
To  indicate  a  parallel,  let  us  suppose  the  three 
following  chords  played  on  the  piano : 


^^ip^iife^ 


The  highest  or  melodic  note  is  identical  in  all 
cases,  yet  the  total  impression  varies,  accord- 
ing to  the  change  in  harmonic  background. 
As  in  the  case  of  the  interjections,  it  is  the 
background  which  imparts  direction  and  sig- 
nificance. And  it  is  the  background  in  the 
mind  which  constitutes  the  so-called  fringe. 

Counterpoint,  which  follows  harmony,  an- 
swers to  the  coexistence  of  parallel  trains  of 

'  James,   The  Principles  of  Psychology,   New   York,  1890, 
vol.  i.,  p.  250. 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism     103 

thought  or  feeling.  As  two  or  more  themes 
may  run  along  side  by  side,  alternating  with 
each  other  or  sounding  together,  so  various  / 
trains  of  thought  may  share  the  field  of  atten- 
tion. Witness  those  divided  states  of  mind 
when  we  are  attending  to  several  things  at  I 
once, — talking  to  a  friend  we  have  met  on  the,]' 
street  and  thinking  of  the  appointment  we 
must  keep,  finishing  a  letter  and  watching 
for  the  mail-man,  busy  with  our  work  and 
worrying  about  some  impending  event.  Pedal 
points,  especially,  are  admirably  adapted 
for  the  reflection  of  such  conditions,  the 
sustained  or  recurring  notes  in  the  bass  corre- 
sponding to  the  thoughts  which  keep  boring 
or  thumping  away  in  the  background  of  the 
mind. 

Psychologically  timbre,  harmony,  and  coun- 
terpoint may  be  regarded  as  different  degrees 
of  a  single  process,  namely,  the  fringe-like  ac- 
companiment of  the  main  stream  of  thought. 
In   timbre  the  secondary  elements   are  still   i 
imbedded  in  the  stream,  indiscernible  by  the    I 
unaided  ear.     In  harmony  they  begin  to  peep    1       v 
forth,    though    without    losing    subservience 
to  the  melodic  centre  of  motion.     With  the 
incipient  examples  of  counterpoint — the  frag- 


I04     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

mentary  suggestions  of  melody,  the  pedal 
points,  and  so  forth — they  begin  to  assert  their 
independence,  until  finally  they  gain  libera- 
i  tion  and  course  along  with  the  main  theme 
as  co-ordinate  voices. 

The  interlinking  of  successive  chords  finds 
an  analogue  in  the  connection  of  ideas.  Ac- 
cording to  a  rule  of  harmonic  sequence,  two 
successive  chords  usually  have  one  or  more 
notes  in  common.  Likewise  two  ideas  asso- 
ciated by  similarity  share  a  part  of  their 
content.  The  Metropolitan  Opera  House  as- 
sociatively  reminds  me  of  Richard  Wagner, 
because  both  include  the  "opera"  among 
their  connotations.  ,  What  makes  this  analogy 
especially  significant  is  the  fact  that  the 
harmony,  which  forms  the  basis  of  musical 
connection,  corresponds  to  the  fringe  of 
thought,  in  which  the  interlinking  of  succes- 
sive ideas  takes  place. 

We  pass  to  the  structural  features  of  the 
art.  The  coda  of  sonatas  and  symphonies, 
and  the  analogous  stretto  of  fugues,  in  which 
the  preceding  sections  are  gone  over  in  rapid 
succession,  are  typical  of  the  mind's  habit  of 
doubling  up  upon  itself  and  condensing  its 
previous    activities.     Related    processes    are 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism      105 

to  be  found  in  the  novel  and  drama,  where  all 
the  characters  are  brought  together  at  the 
end  for  a  final  adieu ;  likewise  in  the  conclud- 
ing summary  of  arguments.  They  are  even 
present  in  works  of  sculpture,  painting,  and 
architecture.  Though  not  objectively  em- 
bodied in  these  works,  codas  and  strettos  are 
read  into  them  by  the  perceiving  mind.  For 
it  is  common,  after  we  have  devoted  some 
time  to  the  examination  of  an  elaborate  build- 
ing, painting,  or  sculptural  group,  to  make 
a  rapid  survey  of  its  component  parts,  in  a 
final  pulse  of  appreciation. 

The  first  glance  at  a  building  may  be 
compared  to  the  initial  theme  of  a  compo- 
sition: both  introduce  us  to  their  respective 
works,  of  which  they  offer  a  kind  of  epitome. 
And  in  both,  the  symmetrical,  balanced  na- 
ture of  the  works  is  most  clearly  impressed. 
Indeed,  the  similarity  can  be  traced  quite 
minutely,  as  may  be  illustrated  with  the  help 
of  the  following  example : 

Bbktiiovbn,  Sonata  Op.  2,  No.  X 


^^^^^ 


io6     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

The  second  figure  observes  the  same  general 
sequence  as  the  first,  beginning  with  a  long 
note,  continuing  with  a  rapid  succession  of 
sixteenths,  and  ending  with  the  firm  upward 
leap  of  the  quarter  notes.  In  the  case  of  an 
architectural  surface  the  situation  appears  to 
be  different:  starting  at  one  side,  we  seem 
to  approach  the  centre,  and  then  to  pass 
through  to  the  other,  related  side;  we  end  as 
we  began,  the  process  involving  a  reversed 
duplication.  In  reality,  however,  this  is  not 
a  true  account  of  the  matter.  Where  the 
surface  is  large  enough  to  demand  sequential 
perception,  the  eye  starts  from  the  centre, 
moves  toward  one  of  the  sides,  thereupon 
jumps  back  to  the  centre,  and  repeats  the 
procedure  the  other  way.  There  is  direct, 
not  inverted  superposition,  and  the  process 
really  corresponds  to  that  involved  in  the 
musical  theme. 

After  we  have  studied  the  more  important 
parts  of  a  building,  our  attention  may  be 
diverted  by  some  secondary  features.  Our 
observations  assume  a  different  character; 
forming  a  contrast  to  the  initial  ones,  they 
may  be  compared  to  the  trios  or  intermediate 
movements  of  musical  compositions.     Like- 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism      107 

wise,  we  may  institute  comparisons  between 
the  various  sections,  reviewing  their  salient 
features,  and  noting  their  mutual  harmonies 
and  contrasts, — which  would  correspond  to 
the  elaborate  "developments"  of  symphonic 
works,  in  which  the  themes  are  worked  up  in 
manifold  juxtapositions.  Soon,  however,  we 
revert  to  the  more  important  parts,  just  as 
the  composition  comes  back  to  the  original 
theme;  and  finally,  as  mentioned,  we  rapidly 
go  over  the  essential  features  of  the  whole 
once  more,  in  a  coda  or  stretto. 

So  much  for  the  individual  analogies.  Col- 
lectively they  are  characterised  by  a  solidarity 
and  systematic  agreement  which  are  highly 
significant.  The  various  factors  of  mind  and 
music  not  only  match  each  other  individually, 
but  also  in  their  totality  and  interconnection. 
To  begin  at  the  bottom,  we  find  vibrations 
similarly  underlying  both  sets  of  phenomena: 
in  both  they  form  the  physical  substratum/.  1/ 
imperceptible  to  the  listening  and  thinking 
individual.  Approaching  the  threshold  of  \ 
consciousness,  we  are  confronted  with  the 
musical  overtones  and  their  mental  analogues, 


the    inseparable    associations  of    our    ideas. 
Here,  also,  the  relation  to  the  centre  of  atten- 


io8       The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

tion  is  the  same :  both  the  overtones  and  the 
associations  fail  to  impress  us  separately,  but 
merely  suffuse  the  elements  of  which  we  are 
distinctly  conscious.  Harmony  signalises  an 
emergence  from  the  depths  of  the  subcon- 
scious, answering  to  the  fringe-like  shadings 
of  meaning  which  perceptibly  qualify  our 
ideas.  Rhythm,  too,  vacillates  about  the 
threshold  of  perception,  being  taken  up  in  a 
semi-conscious  manner,  like  the  motions  of 
breathing  and  walking.  Incipient  counter- 
point marks  considerable  advance  in  conscious 
prominence,  pedal  points  and  fragmentary 
melodic  figures  moving  about  in  the  back- 
ground of  the  musical  flow  in  the  same  manner 
in  which  secondary  thoughts  keep  enter- 
ing the  depths  of  the  mind.  Melody  and 
developed  counterpoint,  finally,  lead  us  into 
the  full  glow  of  consciousness:  both  oc- 
cupy the  fovea  of  attention,  melody  filling 
it  all  alone,  and  the  voices  of  a  contra- 
puntal complex  alternating  with  each  other 
like  the  members  of  a  divided  train  of 
thought.  In  both  music  and  mind,  all  these 
factors  are  traversed  by  the  shadings  of 
tempo  and  force,  and  enveloped  in  the  stream 
of  time. 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism     109 

Having  traced  the  correspondence  between 
the  two  fields  in  detail,  it  remains  for  us  to 
indicate  its  significance.  How  does  the  agree- 
ment which  has  been  sketched  tend  to  ex- 
plain the  mysterious  charm  of  the  art?  In 
the  first  place,  it  results  in  a  facility  of  per- 
ception, accompanied  by  a  feeling  of  satis- 
faction and  delight.  When  we  are  lifting  a 
heavy  object  and  another  person  suddenly 
adds  his  strength  to  our  own,  our  laboured 
movement  is  rendered  easy,  and  we  experi- 
ence a  sensation  of  buoyancy  and  relief.  The 
result  must  be  similar  when  outer  objects 
harmonise  with  the  natural  processes  of 
perception:  they  too  are  helping  hands, 
facilitating  the  easy  progress  of  thought. 
Most  ordinary  experiences  and  perceptions 
are  not  thus  favourable :  they  have  a  wa3rward 
character,  and  ignore  the  mental  demands. 
Works  of  art  and  literature,  however,  follow 
the  lines  of  mental  cleavage  more  closely. 
Here  we  may  find  the  secret  of  good  style.  It 
is  easier  to  read  "I  gave  the  book  to  John" 
than  "To  John  gave  I  the  book,"  or  "Book 
the  John  gave  to  I,"  because  the  first  sentence 
follows  a  prepared  channel  or  groove,  whereas 
the  others  move   in   mDrc  unaccustomed   se- 


no    The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

quences.^  Our  delight  in  artistic,  graceful 
lines  may  depend  on  their  conformation  to  the 
spontaneous  movements  of  the  eye.  They 
form  a  prepared  track,  a  flowery,  velveted 
road,  over  which  the  eye  may  pass  without  ob- 
struction. And  although  the  pleasure  which 
the  eye  as  such  would  gain  may  be  slight, 
it  may  be  supplemented  by  associated  feel- 
ings of  gratification  which  add  considerable 
timbre.  The  uncomfortable  aspect  of  crowded 
rooms,  or  of  articles  of  furniture  standing  in 
doorways  and  other  improper  places,  is  due  to 
the  nascent  feelings  of  the  difficulty  of  moving 
about  under  the  conditions  presented.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  cosy  impression  of  an  arm- 
chair depends   on   the   incipient  recollection 

»  This  criterion  seems  to  be  more  satisfactory  than  the  one 
suggested  by  Spencer  in  his  Philosophy  of  Style, — according 
to  which  good  style  consists  in  economy  of  attention, — because 
it  includes  Spencer's,  accounts  for  the  cases  which  it  covers, 
but  also  explains  those  to  which  it  fails  to  apply.  The  mind 
ordinarily  tends  to  follow  the  line  of  least  resistance,  which 
usually  embodies  the  greatest  economy  of  attention.  There 
are  times,  however,  when  it  wants  to  expend  strength,  when 
it  delights  in  rough  mental  roads,  and  prefers  the  difficult 
style  of  Carlyle  and  the  Germans  to  the  smooth  flow  of 
words  characteristic  of  the  French.  These  cases  are  neatly 
covered  by  the  criterion  suggested.  For  there  is  a  tendency 
at  such  times  to  exercise  the  mind,  whence  the  difficult 
style  is  the  good  one,  not  that  which  draws  the  mind  along 
without  effort. 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism      m 

of  the  pleasant  moments  of  rest  spent  in  such 
chairs.  Similarly,  lines  admitting  of  easy 
perception  might  acquire  a  reverberation  of 
pleasure  in  the  feelings  formerly  associated 
with  their  perception. 

Musical  progressions,  then,  will  gain  a  cer- 
tain beauty  through  their  agreement  with 
the  operations  of  the  mind.  The  sounds,  as 
they  succeed  one  another,  not  only  do  not 
oppose  the  development  of  thought,  but  even 
assist  it,  drawing  the  thoughts  forth  as  with 
magnetic  force.  Whenever  a  mental  condi- 
tion is  ready  to  give  birth  to  its  successor, 
the  music  is  there  and  helps  in  the  delivery. 
Ordinary  experience  is  a  struggle  for  existence,  \ 
in  which  perceptions  clash  with  great  loss 
of  vitality.  Musical  experience,  however,  is 
an  elysium,  with  harmony  and  co-operation 
reigning  supreme.  It  is  a  dance,  wherein  | 
the  mind  and  the  tonal  progressions  are  thei 
partners.  Every  step  in  the  one  finds  its 
counterpart  in  the  other,  which  elicits  and 
supports  it.  Every  note  of  the  music  is  antici- 
pated and  welcomed  by  the  mind.  The  mind 
both  rushes  toward  it  and  is  drawn  to  it. 
There  is  perfect  reciprocity  of  action:  not  a 
single  inner  expectation  is  thwarted  by  outer 


112     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

perception,  not  a  single  outer  perception 
unprepared  by  inner  expectation. 

All  this  pertains  to  the  ordinary  flow  of 
ideas  and  feelings;  but  music  may  likewise 
imitate  the  most  harmonious,  perfect  flow. 
As  rhythm  represents  the  most  delightful 
form  of  physical  movement,  so  music  con- 
ceivably duplicates  the  easiest,  most  perfect 
progression  of  thoughts  and  feelings:  to 
continue  the  figure,  it  may  be  regarded  as  a 
rhythm  of  all  the  mental  faculties  combined. 
And  as  rhythmical  movement  is  rich  in  delight, 
so  a  harmonious  co-operation  of  the  faculties 
ought  to  yield  considerable  pleasure. 

But  this  would  not  account  for  the  more 
profound  emotional  effects  aroused  by  the  art. 
Music  is  more  than  an  easy  chair  for  the  mind. 
Possibly  the  deeper  effects  may  be  explained 
on  the  analogy  of  sympathetic  vibration; 
indeed,  this  appears  to  be  the  view  enter- 
tained by  the  writers  mentioned  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  chapter ._^i  Music  corresponds  to 
the  tone  which  awakens  a  response  in  strings 
properly  attuned,  and  the  emotions  evoked 
by  it  stand  for  the  response.  Our  feelings 
may  be  accompanied  by  certain  internal 
motions,  every  shade  of  joy  or  sorrow  being 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism      113 

conditioned  by  a  corresponding  psycho- 
physiological process.  Whenever  the  process 
is  simulated,  then,  the  emotions  are  sympa- 
thetically caught  up,  and  started  on  a  similar 
course.  This  explains  the  correspondence 
which  we  have  been  tracing  between  the 
tonal  and  the  mental  flow,  which  answers  to 
the  identity  in  the  number  of  vibrations 
underlying  the  tone  and  its  echo,  and  which 
serves  as  the  condition  of  sympathetic  re- 
sponse. To  a  certain  degree  music  undoubt- 
edly acts  in  this  manner.  It  is  the  rhythm 
of  the  tones  which  induces  the  regular 
movements  of  the  limbs, — an  effect  which 
very  likely  extends  far  beyond  the  apparent 
manifestations.  During  moments  of  intense 
enjoyment  the  points  of  emphasis  will  often 
be  reinforced  by  the  breathing  apparatus,  an 
extra  little  push  being  given  the  exhalations 
at  these  places.  Unlike  the  tappings  of  the 
feet,  which  merely  add  a  superficial  pleasure, 
these  reactions  seem  to  be  connected  with 
the  depth  of  enjoyment.  We  sometimes 
catch  ourselves  welling  up  with  a  crescendo, 
or  experiencing  a  shock  at  a  sudden  burst 
of  sound.  Indeed,  these  manifestations  may 
even  be  apparent  to  an  observer.     The  con- 


114     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

elusion  seems  inevitable  that  there  must  be 
numerous  effects  of  a  subtler  nature,  extend- 
ing into  the  recesses  of  the  bodily  and  nervous 
organisation.  When  in  a  languorous  condi- 
tion, we  crave  for  sweet,  lingering  strains;  at 
energetic  times  we  want  brisk  movements, 
punctuated  with  lively  accents.  Must  there 
not  be  something  in  the  psycho-physiological 
condition  which  corresponds  to  the  tones 
demanded?  It  is  a  question,  of  course,  how 
far  the  correspondence  extends.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  rhythm,  tempo,  and  force,  with 
their  shadings  of  retardation,  acceleration, 
diminution,  and  augmentation,  are  matched 
in  the  psychical  realm.  But  is  there  a  psy- 
chical process  answering  to  the  minor  chord, 
as  distinguished  from  the  major?  Does 
Schubert's  Serenade  answer  to  one  type  of 
mental  action  and  the  Preislied  from  Die 
Meister singer  to  another?  Here  we  feel  the 
need  of  mental  resonators  which,  like  the 
acoustic  devices  of  Helmholtz,  would  enable 
us  to  detect  the  elements  of  our  blended  feel- 
ings. It  seems  reasonable,  however,  to  sup- 
pose that  the  correspondence  does  not  extend 
as  far  as  the  particular  melodies  and  compo- 
sitions.    Indeed,  we   have   been   led   to  the 


Tonal  and  Mental  Parallelism     115 

conclusion  that  melody  is  not  a  duplication 
of  any  mental  content,  but  a  content  itself. 
So  we  have  again  arrived  at  that  knottiest 
problem  of  musical  aesthetics,  which  seems  to 
defy  all  analysis,  i.  e.,  the  nature  of  melody. 
So  far  as  a  melody  is  typical, — so  far  as  it  is 
characteristically  fast,  slow,  loud,  soft,  daring 
in  its  leaps,  hngering  in  its  motion, — it  may 
correspond  to  the  appropriate  kind  of  mental 
action ;  but  that  which  is  unique  in  the  melody, 
and  which  stamps  it  as  a  particular  sequence 
of  tones,  can  hardly  be  accounted  for  in  this 
way. 

Meanwhile  there  is  sufficient  scope  for 
the  species  of  eflfectiveness  dwelt  on  in  this 
chapter.  The  analogy  between  music  and 
mind  is  close  enough  to  produce  considerable 
emotional  reverberation.  Furthermore,  the 
effect  which  has  already  been  explained,  and 
which  is  due  to  ease  of  perception  and  sym- 
pathetic response,  will  be  augmented  by  the 
incipient  resuscitation  of  numerous  memories 
and  associations.  As  the  emotions,  according 
to  hypothesis,  depend  on  psychical  processes, 
which  are  sympathetically  aroused  by  the 
tones,  these  processes  must  often  have  been 
connected  with  external  objects  and  events. 


ii6    The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

Indeed,  the  external  occurrences  would  only- 
have  affected  us  by  awakening  the  inner 
movements :  joyous  events  would  have  set  our 
thoughts  and  feelings  dancing  along  in  lively 
rhythms,  sad  ones  retarded  them  into  the 
sluggish  tempos  of  melancholy.  The  forms 
which  are  set  into  operation  by  music  are  also 
those  which  have  been  used  in  taking  up  life 
and  experience.  Hence  the  musical  pro- 
gressions, by  imitating  the  receptacles  of 
experience,  will  stir  up  multitudinous  vague 
memories  and  revive  the  buried  contents 
of  the  receptacles.  This  might  help  to 
account  for  the  feeling  which  music  imparts, 
that  we  are  living  over  vast  tracts  of  life 
and  experiencing  the  essence  of  events;  like- 
wise for  the  mixture  of  emotions  so  charac- 
teristic of  its  enjoyment. 


VI 

CONCLUSION 

IN  conclusion  we  must  add  a  few  words  on  a 
peculiarly  difficult  part  of  our  subject, 
namely,  the  combination  and  interplay 
of  factors. 

It  is  strange  that  the  problem  of  musical 
effectiveness  has  so  rarely  been  approached 
through  the  medium  of  the  dance.  No  form 
of  art  shows  as  great  a  structural  resemblance 
to  music  as  the  artistic  dance.  Both  are 
temporal  in  nature;  both  please  through  a 
succession  of  regular,  symmetrical  groupings ; 
and  in  both,  these  groupings  have  no  direct 
reference  to  reality. 

Three  elements  contribute  to  the  pleasure 
yielded  by  the  sight  of  an  artistic  dance.  In 
the  first  place  we  enjoy  the  personality  of  the 
dancer,  especially  if  she  be  of  unusual  attrac- 
tiveness. (We  are  assuming  the  dancer  to 
be  a  woman.)     Then   we  enjoy  the  figures 

117 


ii8     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

performed  by  her.  And  finally  we  derive 
pleasure  from  the  spirit  and  animation  which 
she  puts  into  her  movements.  The  first 
element  may  be  regarded  as  the  material  of 
our  enjoyment.  It  corresponds  to  the  power 
of  tone  considered  in  the  opening  chapter. 
Unlike  this,  however,  it  can  be  isolated,  by 
regarding  the  dancer  as  she  appears  in  a 
position  of  repose.  Unlike  this,  again,  it  is 
highly  important:  it  may  so  far  outrank  in 
value  both  of  the  other  elements  that  we 
should  prefer  to  see  a  pretty  danseuse  in  a 
quiet  position,  rather  than  to  watch  the  figures 
of  the  dance  performed  by  an  unattractive 
person.  The  figures  correspond  to  the  formal 
aspect  of  music.  It  is  evident,  of  course, 
that  they  are  vastly  inferior  to  it  in  variety, 
interest,  and  value.  The  pleasure  which  they 
afford  could  likewise  be  isolated,  by  substi- 
tuting automatons  for  the  living  personality. 
However,  there  would  be  something  lacking 
under  these  conditions.  This  "soul  of  the 
dance"  is  supplied  by  the  third  element,  the 
spirit  or  animation  infused  into  the  move- 
ments,— which  corresponds  to  the  symbolic 
element  in  music.  We  not  only  wish  to  see 
pretty  movements,   but   movements  expres- 


Conclusion  119 

sive  of  inner  conditions, — graceful,  coquet- 
tish, agile,  languid,  tender,  lively,  passionate, 
furious  movements,  movements  imbued  with 
life  and  suggestive  of  the  personality  behind 
them.  To  obtain  this  in  isolation — or  rather 
conjoined  with  the  first  element — we  have 
but  to  watch  an  expressive  person  venting 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  an  exciting  nature 
in  appropriate  gestures  and  words. 

In  music  there  is  a  similar  combination  of 
factors.  As  in  the  dance,  there  are  elemental, 
formal,  and  symbolic  or  expressive  elements.  I 
To  these  must  be  added  the  agreement  with 
thought  sketched  in  the  preceding  chapter. 
Association,  being  fortuitous  in  character,  may 
be  neglected.  ^^'    >-li^ 

The  elementary  power  of  tone  operates  like 
a  sounding-board,  imparting  timbre  and  res- 
onance to  the  other  factors.  As  mentioned, 
it  is  not  as  important  as  its  terpsichoreanfelf *" 
analogue,  but  answers  rather  to  the  enhanc- 
ing effect  of  colour  in  paintings.  Here, 
too,  as  in  the  case  of  colour,  we  must  ex-'^'^^'''^ 
elude  from  the  strictly  elementary  effect  all 
emotion  aroused  by  association. 

Tones  are  combined  into  tonal  forms.    How 
manifold  and  complex   these  are,   and  how 


I20     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

they  serve  to  arouse  pleasure  in  the  auditor, 
was  made  clear  in  Chapter  II.  Beside^ 
the  function  of  yielding  direct  enjoyment, 
musical  form  also  serves  as  a  framework 
on  which  the  numerous  symbolisations  and 
agreements  which  subserve  the  deeper  enjoy- 
ment may  be  hung.  It  is  the  plot  or  story 
which  unifies  all  the  elements.  Without  it  we 
should  be  lost  in  a  bewildering  chaos.  The 
chirping  of  crickets,  the  crackling  of  a  wood 
fire,  the  roar  of  waves  may  be  suggestive; 
but  merely  stringing  them  together,  without 
plan  or  order,  would  soon  prove  tiresome. 
Beyond  form,  absolute  music  has  no  plot  or 
plan.  All  efforts  to  read  further  meanings 
into  it,  and  to  trace  definite  delineations,  must 
fail.  Music  is  presentative  in  character,  not 
representative.  Measure,  to  be  sure,  may 
correspond  to  the  beating  of  the  pulse,  a 
final  cadence  may  picture  the  satisfaction 
of  desires,  the  coda  may  simulate  a  mental 
summary;  but  the  composition  in  its  totality, 
with  its  particular  melodies,  harmonies,  and 
rhythms,  and  with  the  specific  union  of  all 
these  elements  characteristic  of  this  one  com- 
position, does  not  represent  any  definite 
psychical  or  material  fact.     It  is  unique,  and 


Conclusion  121 

combines  the  more  or  less  expressive  elements 
into  a  totality  which  only  exists  by  and  for 
itself. 

In  this  respect  there  is  a  correspondence 
between  music  and  the  dance.  A  succession 
of  expressive  movements  and  gestures,  with- 
out uniting  principle,  would  pall  on  us.  The 
uniting  principle  is  furnished  by  the  "form" 
of  the  dance.  But  by  itself  this  would  be 
cold  and  barren.  Both  here  and  in  music, 
the  form  must  have  warmth  and  vitality 
infused  into  it.  The  symbolisations  assume 
this  office.  They  impart  character,  and  give 
animation  and  interest.  Terpsichorean  sym- 
bolisation  comprises  suggestions  of  force, 
abandon,  passion,  languor,  and  various  other 
mental  states;  musical  symbolisation  was 
elaborated  in  Chapter  IV,  and  need  not  de- 
tain us  again.  In  both  cases  definite  things 
are  occasionally  portrayed,  the  bodily  imita- 
tion of  specific  actions  being  matched  in  the 
delineations  of  programme  music. 

Tonal  and  mental  parallelism  is  a  species  of 
effectiveness  which  is  not  shared  to  any  notice- 
able degree  by  the  art  of  dancing.  Its  triple 
method  of  arousing  feeling  was  traced  in  the 
last    chapter.     It   ,is    important    likewise    in 


/  12  2'    The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

breaking  down  the  barrier  which  separates  the 
hearer  and  the  composition.  Owing  to  the 
perfect  correspondence  between  the  tonal 
figures  and  the  mental  processes,  the  distinc- 
tion between  that  which  is  subjective  and 
objective  tends  to  be  obliterated:  we  pass 
into  the  tones  and  blend  with  their  very  being. 
Sometimes  this,  sometimes  that  factor  will 
predominate  in  our  enjoyment.  At  times 
the  formal  structure  will  stand  forth,  and  our 
pleasure  will  depend  on  the  contemplation 
of  architectonic  beauties;  at  times  the  agree- 
ment with  our  mind  will  be  more  important, 
and  we  throb  along  with  the  tones  as  if  our 
very  existence  were  involved  in  them;  then 
again  the  symbolic  element  will  assert  itself, 
and  the  composition  becomes  rich  in  the 
utterance  of  the  secrets  of  life.  When  all 
factors  are  potently  active,  we  experience 
some  of  the  most  blissful  moments  of  which 
human  consciousness  is  susceptible.  The 
formal  framework  expands  into  a  living  cos- 
mos, animated  by  strife,  energy,  love,  hate, 
passion,  vehemence,  despair,  and  triumph; 
the  wall  which  separates  the  subject  and  the 
object  falls,  and  we  enter  into  the  very  life 
of  the  tones :  we  seem  to  be  the  creator  of  this 


Conclusion  123 

little  universe  of  sound;  we  feel  all  its  pangs 
and  discords,  but  they  are  all  united  in  a 
harmonious,  magnificent  totality. 

There  is  a  correspondence,  then,  between  the 
elements  of  terpsichorean  and  musical  effec- 
tiveness. But  the  factors  which  subserve 
musical  delight  are  beset  with  obscurities  and 
complexities  not  to  be  found  in  the  other 
case.  To  begin  with,  there  are  the  problems  of 
parallelism,  nonexistent  for  the  dance.  What 
is  the  internal  " structure "  of  the  emotions? 
Does  music  correspond  with  it?  And  how 
far  does  the  correspondence  extend, — only 
to  the  more  general  features  of  the  art,  or 
also  to  the  smaller  details?  Then  how 
about  the  elementary  power  of  tone?  How 
much  of  it  is  associational  in  character, 
how  much  physiological;  and  what  is  the 
modus  operandi  of  the  part  which  is  physio- 
logical? With  reference  to  form,  what  is  the 
solution  of  the  melodic  and  harmonic  mys- 
teries; what  is  the  nature  of  interstitial  form, 
what  are  the  laws  which  regulate  the  larger 
interaction  of  unrelated  compositions?  Is 
it  possible  to  trace  the  exact  correspondences 
which  underlie  musical  symbolism, — to  show 
how   the   tones   depict   cadences   of   speech, 


'\ 


124     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

moulds  of  happenings,  perspective  views  of 
experience?  Which  of  these  species  of  sym- 
bolisation  is  the  most  important,  on  which 
does  the  more  intrinsic  charm  of  the  art 
depend?  And  does  symbolisation  always 
accompany  musical  effectiveness,  is  there 
significance  even  where  we  are  not  aware 
of  it? 

These  are  some  of  the  questions  which  must 
be  answered  by  those  who  propose  to  give  a 
solution  of  the  musical  mystery.  Every  one 
of  the  contributing  factors  shades  off  into 
the  unknown;  small  wonder,  then,  that  the 
problem  of  musical  enjoyment  should  baffle 
all  attempts  at  explanation.  It  is  only  after 
we  have  revealed  the  secrets  involved  in  these 
nebulous  regions  that  we  may  undertake  to 
give  a  complete  theory  of  the  subject.  Hav- 
ing explained  every  factor  by  itself,  we  may 
then  show  how  the  various  elements  combine 
and  interact ;  we  may  indicate  where  one  ends 
and  the  other  begins,  assign  each  one  to  its 
proper  place  in  the  grouping  of  effects,  figure 
out  the  precise  share  of  enjoyment  which  it 
affords,  and  thus  approach  a  perfect  solution 
of  the  problem. 

It  is  needless  to  repeat  that  we  have  as  yet 


Conclusion  125 

made  little  headway  toward  the  attainment 
of  this  goal.  Although  the  charm  of  music 
has  long  been  a  subject  of  thought,  the  re- 
siilts  in  the  way  of  positive  insight  have 
been  surprisingly  meagre.  So  impenetrable 
does  the  subject  seem  as  to  nourish  the  suspi- 
cion that  we  may  be  dealing  with  some  of  the 
deeper  aspects  of  psychical  existence,  and  that 
an  adequate  solution  might  throw  light  on 
many  hidden  aspects  of  mind  and  emotion. 

Here  we  must  conclude  our  research.  It 
is  better  to  make  a  frank  confession  of  igno- 
rance than  to  indulge  in  empty  guesses  and 
untenable  hypotheses.  Let  us  hope  that  the 
problem  is  not  essentially  incapable  of  expla- 
nation, and  that  a  day  may  arrive  which  shall 
witness  a  solution  of  its  puzzling  mysteries. 


APPENDIX  A 

(See  p.  25) 

The  following  is  an  attempt  to  represent  some  of 
the  agreements  and  disagreements  of  the  Schubert 
passage  diagrammatically : 


Harmony 

A       A 

A    .  A^ 

A    A 

A       A 

A        A. 

A  A 

A 

Tonality 

A. 

A. 

A 

_A._ 

fh^ 

V  *  v 

V  • 

V  • 

*» 

A     A  „ 

A       A 

^4- 

A        A 

A    A  » 

A      A 

A        A 

A 

Sopr. 

a 

A    A  . 

A  I  ^[ 

A  [    a[ 

A    A 

A    .    A^ 

a7. 

.)^lto 

^ 

A. 

A        A. 

A^A* 

A       A. 

A        A. 

Tenoi 

^ 

A.  A  , 

A  />  A 

A  .    A 

Aa  a  .. 

Aa    a 

A    A    Aa 

X'a^" 

Bass 

The  marks  which  point  upward  indicate  agreement, 
those  which  point  downward,  disagreement.  The 
accented  beats  have  larger  marks  than  the  unac- 
cented. The  structural  relations,  being  difficult  of 
exact  representation,  have  not  been  introduced. 
Strictly  speaking,  the  presence  of  a  second  note  to 
the  beat,  as  in  the  tenor,  is  a  violation  of  perfect 
agreement.  However,  the  violation  is  so  slight,  and 
is  overshadowed  to  such  an  extent  by  the  effect  of 

127 


128     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

the  first  note,  that  we  have  included  these  cases  under 
the  category  of  agreement. 

APPENDIX  B 


(See  p.  30) 

In  order  to  illustrate  the  interrelation  of  sections 
referred  to  in  the  text,  and  also  to  reveal  the  complex- 
ity of  the  process  involved  in  hearing  music,  we  sub- 
join a  psychological  analysis  of  some  Beethoven 
measures.  It  is  by  no  means  complete,  but  only  pre- 
sents the  more  evident  factors  involved. 

Beethoven,  Symphony  No.  7. 


Strings  pizzicato 


1       U      '       '  : 


St 


i 


U 


p'izzicato 

8 


Flutes  and 

9. 


Oboea 
10 


Oboes  and 

11^ 


£ 


fciMzzk 


¥=£==¥=^ 


Appendices 


129 


^ 


Clarinets 
12  . 

; 0- 


H 


Bassoons 
13, 


m 


and  Horns 


Strings 

15 


pizzicato 

16 


B^-^ 


r"  '■  '»^  *  '4wi 


Measures  1-2  involve: 

1.  the  expectation  of  their  completion  in  3-4; 

2.  "  "  "  a   drop  in  pitch; 

3.  "  "  "  "  change    in    instrumen- 
tation; 

Measures  3-4: 

4.  the  satisfaction  of  i ; 


2; 
3; 


7.       "     expectation  of  5-8,  as  an  answer  to  1-4 ; 
"  "  a  further  drop  in  pitch; 

9.  "  "    "     '*  change  in  instru- 

mentation ; 
Measures  5-6: 

10.  the  partial  satisfaction  of  7; 

11.  "     satisfaction  of  8 ; 

12.  9 ; 

13.  "     expectation  of  7-8,  as  a  completion  of 

5-6; 

14.  the  expectation  of  a  further  drop  in  pitch  ; 

15.  "  "  "  "       "     change  in  instru- 
mentation ; 

9 


130     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


16. 

Measures 

17- 
18. 

19. 
20. 
21. 
22. 

23- 
24. 

25- 

26. 
27. 

28. 


the  expectation  of  a  change  to  staccato ; 

7-8: 

the  completed  satisfaction  of  7 ; 
"     satisfaction  of  13; 
"  14; 

"15; 
"  16; 
"     expectation  of  a  continuation  in  9-10, 
corresponding  to  1-2 ; 

the  expectation  of  an  ascent  in  pitch,  corre- 
sponding to  1-2 ; 

the  expectation  of  a  change  in  instrumenta- 
tion, corresponding  to  1-2; 

the  expectation  of  a  return  to  legato,  corre- 
sponding to  1-6 ; 

the  expectation  of  9-16,  answering  to  1-8; 
"  "  "a    succession    of    pitch 

alterations  like  those  of  1-8; 

the  expectation  of  an  instrumental  arrange- 
ment like  that  of  1-8; 


Measures 

9-10; 

29. 

the  satisfaction  of  22; 

SC- 

"23; 

SI- 

"  24; 

32- 

"  25; 

33- 

"  the  partial  satisfaction  of  26; 

34. 

"  27; 

35- 

"  28; 

36. 

"     expectation  of  11-12,  as  a  completion 

of  9-10; 

37- 

the  expectation  of  11-12,  answering  to  3-4; 

Appendices 


131 


38.  the  expectation  of  a  drop  in  pitch,  answer- 

ing to  that  of  3-4; 

39.  the  expectation  of  a  change  in  instrumen- 

tation, answering  to  that  of  3-4 ; 
Measures  11-12: 

40.  the  satisfaction  of  36; 

41.  "  "  "37: 

42.  "  "  "38; 
43-        "              "             "39; 

44.       "     continued  satisfaction  of  26; 

45-  "  "                  "              "27; 

46.  "  "  "              "  28; 

47.  "  expectation  of  13-16,  completing  9-12; 

48.  "  "  "  13-16,  answering  to  5-8; 

49.  "  "  "  a  drop  in  pitch,  answering 

to  that  of  5-6 ; 

50.  the   expectation  of  a  change  in  instrumen- 

tation, answering  to  that  of  5-6 ; 
Measures  13-14: 

51.  the  satisfaction  of  49 ; 

52. 50; 

53.       "     partial  satisfaction  of  47; 

54. "  48; 

55.  "     continued    "  "26; 

56.  "  "  "  "  27; 

57.  "  "  "  "  28; 

58.  "      expectation  of     15-16,     completing 

13-14; 

59.  the  expectation  of  15-16,  answering  to  7-8; 

60.  the  expectation  of  a  drop  in  pitch,  answering 

to  that  of  7-8; 


132     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


61.  the  expectation  of  a  change  in  instrumenta- 

tion, answering  to  that  of  7-8; 

62.  the   expectation  of  a  change  to  staccato, 

answering  to  that  of  7-8 ; 
Measures  15-16: 

63.  the  satisfaction  of  58; 


64. 

(                              K 

"59; 

65. 

(                              (1 

"60; 

66. 

(                              <( 

"  61; 

67. 

«                              " 

"  62; 

68. 

'     completed 

satisfaction  of  47; 

69. 

(             <( 

1  ( 

"48; 

70. 

(              (( 

i< 

"26; 

71. 

(              <( 

<i 

"27; 

72. 

<              (( 

(1 

"  28. 

Complex  though  this  analysis  is,  the  actual  psycho- 
logic state  of  affairs  is  still  more  involved.  The  con- 
dition of  mind,  in  appreciating  the  passage,  is  not 
that  of  sixteen  measures  spread  out  laterally,  for 
easy  comparison,  but  of  a  single  shifting  measure  or 
two,  with  all  the  preceding  measures  crowding  be- 
hind and  the  succeeding  ones  casting  their  shadow 
in  front.  The  mind  is  a  stage  across  which  one 
scene  after  another  passes,  or,  better  still,  a  stere- 
opticon  into  which  view  after  view  is  introduced, 
with  the  important  difference  that  the  views  all 
remain  inside,  the  preceding  ones  affecting  the  nature 
of  those  which  succeed.  The  correspondences  and 
contrasts,  accordingly,  so  far  as  they  are  held  together 
by  the  mind,  come  to  view  within  the  short  span  of  a 
measure  or  two,  forming  an  intricate  tissue  of  relations. 


Appendices  133 

An  adequate  representation  of  such  a  condition 
would  be  possible  only  through  the  employment  of 
the  third  dimension,  the  preceding  measures  being 
placed  behind  the  succeeding  ones;  even  this,  however, 
would  hardly  be  satisfactory.  Here  we  have  arrived 
at  the  intimate  region  of  musical  histology.  It  is 
not  inconceivable  that  minute  dissections  in  this  re- 
gion would  cast  some  light  on  the  elusive  secrets  of 
musical  structure. 

APPENDIX    C 

(See  p.  78) 

Generally,  it  would  seem,  the  perspective  depictions 
of  music  are  limited  to  certain  restricted  aspects  or 
fragments  of  life.  We  may  simulate  a  struggle  ending 
in  victory,  a  doubt  leading  to  certainty,  a  desire 
followed  by  satisfaction,  as  in  the  examples  of  the  text, 
but  the  fragments  thus  reproduced  do  not  unite  in  the 
deHneation  of  a  complete  life-history.  The  unifying 
principle  of  music,  as  shown  in  the  concluding  chapter, 
does  not  lie  in  any  plot  or  plan,  but  is  furnished  by 
the  formal  structure  of  the  art.  Nevertheless,  there 
are  instances  in  which  the  symbolisation  is  more 
systematic,  and  where  complete  biographies  or  his- 
tories, as  it  were,  are  reproduced.  Such  an  instance 
is  to  be  found  in  Chopin's  Nocturne  Op.  15,  No.  3. 

After  reading  Flaubert's  Madame  Bovary,  and  while 
the  powerful  emotions  aroused  by  the  concluding 
pages  were  still  reverberating  in  my  mind,  this 
composition  occurred  to  me  as  an  expression  of  my 


134    The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

inmost  feelings.  It  seemed  to  embody  the  essential 
impression  produced  by  the  incidents  in  the  career 
of  the  guilty  woman.  Riper  consideration  showed 
that  this  was  only  partly  true.  There  is  a  vicious, 
almost  diabolical  element  in  the  life  of  Madame  Bovary 
which  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  elegiac  noUurno.  Yet 
the  two  show  a  pronounced  affinity.  Apart  from  the 
blame  which  must  attach  to  the  passionate  heroine, 
she  awakens  a  milder  feeling  of  pity  as  we  muse  over 
the  steps  of  her  erring  career.  Our  sympathy  deepens 
into  a  profound  Weltschmerz  as  we  realise  that  her  life 
is  but  a  symbol  of  human  life  in  general;  and  it  is 
this  feeling,  as  well  as  the  particular  story  of  the  novel, 
which  finds  expression  in  the  nocturne. 

Unrealised  ideals,  shattered  hopes,  emptiness, 
tedium,  vanity, — these  are  the  burden  of  the  mournful 
tale.  We  see  Emma  in  her  paternal  home,  dreaming 
of  love  and  bliss.  She  marries,  but  fails  to  find  the 
happiness  for  which  she  had  sighed.  We  see  her  at 
the  ball,  dazzled  by  the  unattainable  wealth  and 
splendour  which  unfold  themselves  before  her.  We 
see  her  languishing  away  for  excitement,  seeking  relief 
in  a  new  home,  falling  in  love  with  Leon,  and  suffering 
from  his  departure.  Rodolphe  now  enters  into  her 
existence,  joy  flames  forth  for  a  moment,  only  to  be 
engulfed  in  despair  at  his  desertion.  Illness  and 
religious  calm  take  hold  of  her,  but  love  reawakens, 
and  with  Leon  she  abandons  herself  to  the  gratification 
of  her  passion.  Disenchantment  follows,  however, 
disaster  overtakes  her,  and  in  an  access  of  despair 
she  ends   her   restless  existence.      Her   life  is   aptly 


Appendices  135 

summed  up  in  the  following  words:  "She  was  not 
happy — she  never  had  been  .  .  .  nothing  was  worth 
the  trouble  of  seeking  it ;  everything  was  a  lie.  Every 
smile  hid  a  yawn  of  boredom,  every  joy  a  curse,  all 
pleasure  satiety."^ 

Now  it  is  this  same  impression  of  unrest  and 
disappointment,  of  longing  and  disillusion,  which  is 
awakened  by  the  nocturne.  But  there  is  no  final 
catastrophe;  instead,  religious  peace  ensues  as  a  re- 
deeming power.  For  the  purpose  of  our  analysis, 
the  nocturne  may  be  divided  into  three  parts.  The 
first  comprises  fifty  measures  and  ends  just  before 
the  mysterious  sotto  voce.  The  second  includes  thirty- 
eight  measures  and  leads  as  far  as  the  choral.  The 
third  extends  from  here  to  the  end  of  the  piece.  The 
theme  with  which  the  composition  begins  is  distinctly 
melancholy  and  resigned  in  character.  With  measure 
four  we  have  a  transition  to  brighter  regions,  and  a 
ray  of  hope  appears.  There  is  a  moment  of  suspense 
and  anticipation,  but  the  theme  settles  down  to  a 
progression  which,  though  agreeable,  is  rather  trivial, 
and  fails  to  satisfy  the  expectations  raised  by  the 
change  of  key.  Sadly  we  relapse  into  the  original 
theme.  Again  there  is  an  attempt  to  escape  from  the 
thraldom  of  depression,  and  this  time  it  seems  to  come 
from  within,  and  leads  with  a  passionate  sweep  into 
the  key  of  D  minor.  In  vain,  however;  even  this 
energetic  effort  is  unable  to  break  the  spell;  the 
trivial  figure  recurs  and  helplessly  we  fall  back  into  the 
original  strain.     Once  more,  as  in  the  fourth  measure, 

«  Flaubert,  Madame  Bovary,  Chicago,  p.  330. 


136     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

there  is  a  prospect  of  relief,  and  once  more,  too,  the 
soul  endeavours  to  free  itself  through  a  vigorous  effort 
of  its  own ;  as  before,  both  transitions  are  followed  by 
the  dreariness  of  disenchantment.  Sick  and  weary 
with  strife,  the  soul  now  lapses  into  a  mystic  state 
(beginning  of  second  part) ;  gleams  of  a  deeper  joy  than 
this  life  can  afford  suffuse  the  heart  with  quiet  beati- 
tude; again  we  hear  the  mystic  strains,  and  again  the 
beatific  visions  appear.  The  prospect  of  relief  now 
combines  with  the  unsatisfied  longing  and  the  desire 
becomes  more  vehement;  fighting  its  way  through 
every  obstacle,  it  finally  leads  into  a  tremendous  crisis 
full  of  the  sharpest  anguish.  This  is  followed  by  a 
relapse,  due  to  the  soul's  exhaustion  from  feverish 
excitement.  And  now,  while  the  last  soft  tones  of 
the  struggle  are  dying  away,  the  consoling  harmonies 
of  the  choral  resound,  proclaiming  deliverance  from 
the  pain  of  unsatisfied  desire. 

It  is  a  life-history  in  tones,  a  musical  sermon ;  its 
subject  is  the  vanity  of  existence  and  the  redeeming 
power  of  religion;  and  it  unfolds  this  subject  as 
logically  as  a  verbal  exposition. 

APPENDIX  D 

(See  p.  91) 

In  the  following  an  attempt  is  made  to  trace  the 
basis  of  symbolisation  in  certain  melodies,  and  thus 
to  account  for  some  of  their  characteristic  effect.  We 
shall  begin  with  the  theme  of  Beethoven's  Eroica 
symphony. 


Appendices  137 


£ 


The  impression  of  this  theme  is  one  of  great  stability, 
firmness,  quiet  strength,  and  confidence.  It  is  an 
elemental  theme, — simple,  direct,  and  full  of  resolute 
purpose.  To  account  for  these  qualities  we  note, 
in  the  first  place,  that  the  theme  is  rhythmically  pre- 
cise; the  notes  fall  on  the  important  beats,  without 
syncopation  or  hesitation.  Again  the  theme  consists 
entirely  of  the  tones  which  constitute  the  fundamental 
chord  of  the  key.  And  of  these,  the  tone  which  oc- 
curs most  frequently  is  the  fundamental  itself.  E  flat 
appears  four  times,  g  and  b  flat  twice.  Furthermore, 
e  flat  always  falls  on  the  first  beat  of  the  measure ;  and, 
as  if  to  heighten  the  stability  still  more,  it  occupies 
the  centre  of  the  theme  with  reference  to  pitch.  First 
the  theme  rises  a  third  above  the  fundamental,  then 
descends  a  fourth  beneath  it,  again  rises  above 
it  a  fifth,  and  finally  settles  down  on  the  funda- 
mental as  a  firm  foundation.  If  we  draw  a  hor- 
izontal line  through  the  middle  of  the  theme,  it 
will  correspond  approximately  to  the  fundamental. 
And  if  we  draw  vertical  lines  through  the  funda- 
mental, they  will  enclose  the  theme  at  both  ends 
and  divide  it  at  regular  intervals.  The  fundamental, 
in  short,  pervades  the  entire  theme  as  a  ruling 
spirit. 

Radically  different  in  effect  and  construction  is  the 
march  theme  from  Raff's  Lenore  symphony. 


138     The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 


m 


W 


^ 


-^rr 


i&-^ 


jLtJL 


^^ 


^ff 


d  '  *  s. 


The  movement  from  which  this  theme  is  taken  is 
supposed  to  represent  the  lover's  departure  for  the 
war.  Hence  the  theme  has  a  roving,  wayward 
character;  it  seems  to  point  off  into  the  distance,  and 
to  tell  us  of  romantic  adventure.  If  we  compare  its 
structure  with  that  of  the  theme  just  considered,  we 
shall  find  a  singular  avoidance  of  the  fundamental. 
Only  four  times  does  it  occur,  and  each  time  it  assumes 
the  form  of  a  short  sixteenth  note,  falling  on  an  un- 
important part  of  the  measure.  Hence  the  unstable, 
wandering  character  of  the  theme,  which  is  augmented 
by  the  changes  of  harmony  and  the  freedom  with 
which  the  tones  move  and  skip  about.  The  upward 
progression  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  measure, 
especially,  ending  on  g,  produces  an  effect  of  careless 
abandon. 

A  characteristic  theme   is  that   of   Liszt's  Liebes- 
traum,  No.  3. 


^ 


TIj^ 


^m 


=^-=^ 


dolce 


'  mn 


^ 


^ 


^ 


cctntando 


-»-^ 


J 


^ 


^ 


r 


-»-H^ 


Appendices 


139 


ite 


^ 


ffiy^ 


X    y 


r 


f     a    y 


J. 


f 


-^? — s- 


The  motto  of  this  piece  is  taken  from  Freiligrath's 
famous  poem,  O  lieb  so  lang  du  liehen  kannst.  Un- 
swerving devotion,  accordingly,  is  its  subject.  Now 
the  characteristic  of  unswerving  devotion  is  adherence 
to  its  object  through  any  and  every  circumstance; 
and  this  is  fittingly  mirrored  in  the  theme.  Of  the 
six  measures  which  have  been  given,  the  note  c  fills 
three  and  a  half.  The  harmony  changes  three  times, 
yet  the  c  remains;  in  fact,  the  deviation  of  a  semitone 
in  measure  three — the  smallest  possible  deviation — 
only  serves  to  heighten  the  immediate  return  to  the 
prevailing  note.  And  when  finally  the  melody  is 
obliged  to  break  away  from  the  tone  to  which  it  has 
adhered  so  tenaciously,  it  returns  to  it  once  more 
for  a  final  caress,  before  finding  rest  in  the  concluding 
o  fiat. 


I40    The  Basis  of  Musical  Pleasure 

Without  doubt  the  effect  of  these  themes  is  partly 
due  to  the  features  indicated.  But  it  is  by  no 
means  exhausted  by  them.  Not  every  adherence 
to  a  single  tone  will  produce  a  melody  so  won- 
drously  beautiful  as  that  of  the  Liebestraum;  not 
every  avoidance  of  the  key-note  will  yield  a  romantic 
Lenore  theme.  It  is  only  when  these  characteristics 
are  added  to  a  beauty  which  was  already  present  that 
we  obtain  the  impression  which  thrills  the  heart.  The 
symbolisations  that  have  been  indicated  may  help  to 
account  for  the  character  of  the  themes,  but  there  is 
a  more  purely  musical  quality  which  is  not  thereby 
explained.  Whether  this  also  is  due  to  a  subtle 
symbolisation,  or  whether  it  is  entirely  formal  in 
character,  is  still  left  an  open  question. 


The  Opera  Problem 


141 


THE  OPERA  PROBLEM 

THE  opera  has  been  the  subject  of  more 
controversies  than  any  other  branch  of 
music.  Its  very  birth  was  the  outcome 
of  a  revolt  against  existing  musical  condi- 
tions, and  disputes  mark  the  path  of  its  his- 
tory down  to  the  present  day.  Among  the 
more  important  of  these  are  the  Parisian 
contest  between  the  Gluckists  and  Piccinists, 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  which  agitated 
the  populace  of  the  French  capital  as  violently 
as  a  political  or  religious  crisis,  and  that 
between  the  Wagnerians  and  anti-Wagner- 
ians  of  our  own  day,  which  for  decades  has 
been  dividing  the  musical  opinion  of  the 
entire  western  world.  Are  these  controversies 
of  an  accidental,  fortuitous  character,  or  in- 
herent in  the  nature  of  opera?  Is  it  not 
of  the  very  essence  of  this  branch  of  art  to 
engender  internal  conflicts,  rendering  difficult 
or  impossible  a  perfection  which  shall  do 
justice  to  all  the  warring  elements.? 

The  o])era  was  originally  promulgated  as  a 
143 


144  The  Opera  Problem 

resuscitation  of  the  Greek  drama.  When 
Constantinople  fell,  in  1453,  many  of  its 
citizens  migrated  westward,  carrying  with 
them  and  imparting  the  remains  of  the  old 
civilisation,  which  had  been  perpetuated  in 
Byzantium.  From  these  germs  sprang  the 
Renaissance,  or  rebirth  of  ancient  ideas,  as  it 
manifested  itself  in  a  love  and  imitation  of 
everything  classic.  In  art,  especially,  the 
Renaissance  bore  rich  fruit,  giving  impetus 
to  the  luxuriant  development  of  sculpture 
and  painting  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries,  and  producing  the  styles  of  archi- 
tecture which  bore  its  name.  Thus  it  was 
natural  for  men  to  turn  to  the  classic  drama  as 
well,  and  attempt  its  revival. 

A  special  impetus  in  this  direction  was 
derived  from  the  dissatisfaction  of  certain 
Italian  minds  with  the  contrapuntal  music  of 
the  day.  The  music  of  the  restored  drama 
was  to  be  an  entire  departure  from  this, — and 
herein  consisted  the  revolt  mentioned  above: 
it  was  to  be  simpler  in  character,  was  to  dis- 
pense with  counterpoint,  and  combine  with 
the  words  in  harmonious  union,  "  supplying  a 
support  to  the  declamation   of  the  voice."  ^ 

>  Parry,  The  Art  of  Music,  New  York,  1893,  P-  i4i- 


The  Opera  Problem  145 

To  be  sure,  this  co-operation  of  words  and 
music  was  not  of  long  duration.  The  tonal 
half  of  the  operatic  union  encroached  more 
and  more  on  the  poetic,  until  finally  the  origi- 
nal equality  of  the  two  was  forgotten,  and  the 
former  was  openly  hailed  as  ruler.  Opera 
gradually  developed  into  a  species  of  scenic 
concert,  in  which  the  performers  appeared 
in  costume  and  indulged  in  a  little  acting  while 
they  sang.  The  music  was  supreme,  text  and 
plot  merely  forming  a  background,  or,  as  a 
well-worn  simile  has  it,  holding  together  the 
musical  gems  as  a  string  unites  a  row  of  beads. 

This  continued  for  a  long  time,  until  finally 
a  champion  of  the  enslaved  muse,  a  poetic 
emancipator,  appeared  in  the  person  of 
Gluck.  Gluck's  aim  was  to  rectify  the  lop- 
sided condition  of  opera,  and  restore  the 
words  to  their  rightful  position.  He  had  a 
severe  struggle  with  his  opponents,  which 
culminated  in  the  famous  fight  between  the 
Gluckists  and  Piccinists,  in  which  the  former 
were  victorious.  But  though  he  gained  tem- 
porary recognition  for  his  theories,  they  were 
forgotten  after  his  death,  and  in  Rossini, 
Bellini,  and  Donizetti  we  have  the  singers 
trilling  and  warbling  away  again  a^  uncon- 


146  The  Opera  Problem 

cernedly  as  of  old:  music  had  once  more 
elevated  herself  in  the  proud  pose  of  victory, 
and  poetry  merely  served  as  her  pedestal. 

But  again  a  reformer  was  to  come,  of  talents 
and  powers  greater  even  than  Gluck.  For 
decades  Richard  Wagner  bombarded  the 
public  with  his  ideas  of  reform,  and  he  fought 
with  such  enthusiasm,  consistency,  and  force, 
that  he  transformed  an  unwilling,  hissing 
world  into  an  audience  of  admirers,  of  which 
half  have  become  ardent  disciples,  while  all 
are  compelled  to  recognise  the  loftiness  of 
his  genius  and  aspirations. 

There  were  some  novel  features  in  the 
teachings  of  Wagner, — such  as  the  abolition 
of  the  conventional  arias  and  concerted 
numbers, — but  essentially  his  work  may  be 
viewed  as  an  attempt  to  establish  the  ideas 
which  had  previously  been  advanced  by 
Gluck,  and  which  had  already  inspired  the 
founders  of  opera.  Poetry  was  once  more 
to  shake  off  the  tyranny  of  music;  words  and 
music  were  to  combine  harmoniously  and, 
with  the  aid  of  the  scenic  and  histrionic  arts, 
were  to  constitute  a  perfect  amalgamation  of 
aesthetic  effects. 

How  shall  we  regard  these   endeavours   of 


The  Opera  Problem  147 

the  Bayreuth  master?  How  shall  we  char- 
acterise his  effort  to  unite  the  various  branches 
of  art,  and  thus  to  condense  into  a  single 
composite  the  effects  producible  by  each  ? 

As  an  ideal  it  is  laudable,  but  its  realisation 
appears  problematical.  The  perfect  opera 
seems  to  imply  a  union  of  incompatible  ele- 
ments,— resembling  the  perfect  man,  who  is 
nowhere  to  be  found  because  his  realisation 
would  involve  the  co-existence  of  mutually 
exclusive  virtues. 

As  Professor  James  says : 

Not  that  I  would  not,  if  I  could,  be  both  handsome 
and  fat  and  well-dressed,  and  a  great  athlete,  and 
make  a  million  a  year,  be  a  wit,  a  bon-vivani,  and  a 
lady-killer,  as  well  as  a  philosopher;  a  philanthropist, 
statesman,  warrior,  and  African  explorer,  as  well  as  a 
"tone-poet"  and  saint.  But  the  thing  is  simply 
impossible.  The  millionaire's  work  would  run  counter 
to  the  saint's;  the  hon-vivant  Siwd  the  philanthropist 
would  trip  each  other  up;  the  philosopher  and  the 
lady-killer  could  not  well  keep  house  in  the  same  tene- 
ment of  clay.  Such  different  characters  may  conceiv- 
ably at  the  outset  of  life  be  alike  possible  to  a  man. 
But  to  make  any  one  of  them  actual,  the  rest  must 
more  or  less  be  suppressed.^ 

>  The  Principles  of  Psychology,  New  York,  i8go,  vol.  i., 
P-  309- 


148  The  Opera  Problem 

So,  we  are  inclined  to  believe,  the  perfect 
art-work  of  the  future  is  a  bundle  of  incom= 
patible  elements,  in  which  "to  make  any  one 
~oi  them  actual,  the  rest  must  more  or  less  be 
"suppressed."  We  may  have  poetry  in  per- 
fection, as  in  the  ordinary  drama,  or  music  in 
perfection,  as  in  the  operas  of  Mozart;  but  to 
keep  poetry  and  music  in  harmonious,  exalted 
combination,  turns  out  to  be  a  well-nigh 
hopeless  task. 

The  first  problem  to  be  encountered  by  the 
opera  is  that  of  the  propriety  of  dramatic 
singing:  people  do  not  sing  at  each  other  in 
real  hfe,  it  is  said,_whence  the  opera  is  an 
unnatural  form  of  art.  In  answer,  it  is 
pointed  out  that  poetry  too  is  unnatural,  that 
people  do  not  ordinarily  address  each  other 
in  verse,  but  that  the  great  dramatists  are 
not  thereby  deterred  from  using  verse  for 
their  tragedies.  The  retort  follows  that  many 
dramatists  in  fact  decry  its  employment, 
that  the  tendency  to  substitute  prose  has 
been  growing  for  over  a  century,  that  the 
lines  are  usually  run  together  in  enuncia- 
tion so  as  in  fact  to  make  the  effect  of  prose, 
and  that  the  permission  of  a  slight  alteration 
of  speech,  as  in  verse,  by  no  means  justifies 


The  Opera  Problem  149 

a  complete  distortion  and  transformation,  as 
in  song. 

Experience,  however,  refutes  these  objec- 
tions, and  proves  that  it  is  possible  to  over- 
look the  unnaturalness  of  dramatic  singing: 
we  accept  so  many  conventionalities  m  art 
that  this,  too,  will  cause  no  special  difficulties. 
But  the  implications  of  this  fact  are  more 
far-reaching  than  may  be  supposed.  To 
begin  with,  it  is  only  by  sacrificing  the  demand 
for  perfect  naturalness  that  the  enhancement 
of  song  is  gained.  We  cannot  have  both 
realism  and  musical  idealisation,  and  as  long 
as  we  insist  on  the  one,  we  shall  be  compelled 
to  forego  the  other.  We  must  relinquish  the 
zest^  real  life  in  order  to  gain  the  romance 
of  fairy-land.  But  the  same  selection  and 
sacrifice  must  be  allowed  with  reference  to 
other  features  of  the  opera  as  well.  How  can 
we,  while  blinking  the  unnaturalness  of  song, 
consistently  object  when,  by  means  of  the 
repetition  of  words  in  arias  and  the  combina- 
tion of  voices  in  duets,  trios,  and  choruses,  a 
composer  still  further  sacrifices  a  certain 
amount  of  dramatic  truth  for  the  sake  of 
musical  beauty?  Will  not  the  same  argu- 
ments which   justify  the  one  do   the  same 


150  The  Opera  Problem 

for  the  other?  Shall  we  cross  the  Rubicon 
and  then  be  daunted  by  a  little  insignificant 
creek  ? 

Here  we  arrive  at  the  second  problem  or 
conflict  of  opera,  which  has  formed  the  basis 
of  most  discussions;  it  is  the  conflict  between 
expression  and  form,  or  between  the  musical 
aiid"  'dramatic  elements.  Hitherto  expres- 
sion has  usually  been  neglected,  to  the  advan- 
tage of  form.  The  li^bretto  was  arranged  for 
beautiful  arias,  duets,  triQS.__and  choruses , 
in  which  trivial  words__were_pfteri  r^p^ated 
in  a  senseless,  unnatural  manner,  while  but 
little  heed  was  paid  to  the  correspondence 
between  the  text  and  the  character  of  the 
music.  This  was  the  state  of  affairs  which 
Gluck  and  Wagner  sought  to  remedy.  In 
considering  the  rival  tendencies  with  unbiased 
mind,  we  must  admit  that  both  are  founded 
on  legitimate  demands.  It  is  good  to  have 
beautiful  music,  and  it  is  gooH,  also,  to  have 
expressive  music,  clinging  to  and  fitting  the 
meaning  ot  the  words.  But,  it  may  be  asked, 
is  it  not  possible  to  combine  both  in  exalted 
union?  The  answer  has  already  been  indi- 
cated: any  marked  concession  on  one  side_js 
likely  to  be  acc^onipanied  by '  a  loss  "on  the 


The  Opera  Problem  151 

other.  Without  question  the  finest  music, 
aTpure  music,  is  that  which  is  written  in  the 
regular  forms  of  the  aria,  sonata,  symphony, 
and  the  like ;  the  comparatively  formless  reci- 
tatives of  the  Wagnerian  music  drama  are. 
certainly,  qua  music,  inferior  to  the  more 
symmetrical  instrumental  compositions  of  Bee: 
thoven,  and  the  arias  and  concerted  pieces 
oTMozart's  operas'. But  If  we  set  our  libret- 
tos to  such  music  we  lose  in  dramatic  truth : 
dramatic  truth  requires  a  continuous  progres- 
sion of  the  dialogue,  without  conventional 
repetitions  and  unnatural  combinations  of 
voices.  So  we  are  in  the  dilemma  of  choos- 
ing between  dramatic  truth  and  the  beauty  of 
regular  forms. 

The  difficulty  may  partly  be  overcome 
by  introducing  regular  numbers  in  a  natural 
manner,  as  in  the  form  of  serenades,  shepherd 
songs,  hymns,  or  singing  contests  h  la  Tann- 
hduser  and  Die  Mcistersinger.  But  the  for- 
mal pieces  resulting  herefrom  will  be  few, 
while  a  frequent  repetition  of  the  device  will 
reveal  its  mechanical  nature.  Try  to  escape 
it  as  we  will,  the  conclusion  seems  to  bear 
down  on  us  that  dramatic  poetry  and  music 
are   essentially   unfit   to   enter    into   perfect, 


152  The  Opera  Problem 

harmonious  union,  in  which  both  are  at  their 
best  and  nevertheless  go  together  without 
mutual  interference.  The  attempt  to  make 
them  do  so  resembles  the  endeavour  to  make 
a  horse  and  a  dog  trot  in  step.  It  is  of  the 
essence  of  dramatic  poetry  to  advance  steadily 
and  in  a  sin^  yoicer^without  repetitions 
and  with  but  rare  occasions  for  the  com- 
bination of  several  speakers;  and  it  is  of  the 
essence  of  music  to  repeat  itself  in  symmetrical 
forms  and  advance  "^imuTtaneously  in  sev- 
eral voices.  Naturally  these  tendencies  will 
clash,  a  combination  being  possible  only 
through  a  neglect  of  one  or  the  other  factor.^ 
How  great  the  neglect  shall  be,  what  propor- 

>  To  be  sure,  the  voice  and  the  orchestra  form  coordinate 
members,  and  the  latter  may  again  be  subdivided  into  a 
variety  of  melodic  parts,  without  interfering  with  the  single 
progression  of  the  text.  In  the  recurrence  of  the  leit-motif, 
too,  there  is  a  possibility  of  formal  elaboration  which  does 
not  interrupt  the  continuous  development  of  the  plot. 
However,  these  methods  of  introducing  variety  will  not 
completely  satisfy  the  musical  demands.  Where  human 
voices  are  involved  we  do  not  wish  to  have  all  the  harmony 
and  counterpoint  in  the  instruments,  but  also  expect  an 
occasional  combination  of  the  voices;  the  adherence  to  the 
solo  form  will  prove  monotonous  when  prolonged  for  hours. 
Still  less  is  the  sporadic,  hap-hazard  repetition  of  the  leit- 
motif calculated  to  satisfy  the  demand  for  musical  form, 
nourished  as  it  has  been  by  the  magnificent  arias  and  con- 
certed pieces  of  the  older  school. 


The  Opera  Problem  153 

tions  will  be  chosen  in  combining  the  two 
factors,  will  depend   on  the  penchant  of  the 
composer  or  the  taste  of  the  audience  for  which 
he  writes.     At  one  end  of  the  scale  we  shall 
find  the  auditors  who  do  not  even  admit  the 
legitimacy  of  dramatic  singing, — whose  pref- 
erence for  the  spoken  drama  is  so  strong  and 
who  have  so  little  appreciation  of  music  that 
-all  singing  on  the  stage  impresses  them  as 
farcical.     At  the  other  end  are  those  who  un- 
reservedly adopt  the  vocal  fiction  with  all  its 
implications,  and  who,  for  the  sake  of  musical 
beauty,  will  go  to_any  extreme,  and  accept 
the  most  glaring  absurdities  of  the  conven- 
tional old  Italian  opera.     BetweenThese  limits 
there  will  be  numerous  gradations .     One  party 
is  satisfied  with  a  slightly  greater  degree  of 
dramatic  truth  than  that  embodied  in  Italian 
opera,   mixing  dramatic  truth  and  musical 
beauty    in   the    proportions    represented    by 
Gluck,  Weber,  and  Wagner's  earlier  efforts; 
another  approaches  nearer  the  realistic  ex- 
treme, advocating  the  proportions  embodied 
in  Wagner's  later  works,  i.  e.,  in  the  specific 
music  dramas ._  It  is~aIso  possible  to  conceive 
oraTstiircloserapproach  to  the  dramatic  end, 
the    songlike    recitative    being    replaced    by 


154  The  Opera  Problem 

one  of  a  more  declamatory  character:  here, 
in  addition  to  the  loss  of  regular  forms,  the 
beauty  of  the  human  voice  would  also  be 
sacrificed.  The  last  interme3Tate~link  be- 
tween^pera  and  drama  would  be  represented 
by  the  melodrama,  in  which  the  words  are 
spoken,  but  are  accomp.ani£d_^__-a,  back- 
ground  of  rousical  sound.  Expressed  in  the 
form  of  a  table,  we  have  the  following  series : — 

Italian  Opera. 
^GermaiTIl'^^  (Gluck,    Weber,    Wagner's 
~  earlier  works) . 

Wagnerian  Music^rama. 

T5ecIa5natory 

"Melodi-ama. 

^TamaT' 
Roughly'speaking,  and  making  allowance  for 
the  genius  of  individual  composers,  there  is  a 
decrease  in  musical  beauty  as  we  go  down  in 
the  scale,  accompanied  by  an  increase  in 
dramatic  truth. ^  Italian  opera  lays  m^t 
stress  on  musical  beauty  andjeast  on  dramatic, 
truths  pi- o^portioirw&  is  gradually  modi- 
fied, until  in  the  drama  music  is  relegated  to 

>  As  will  be  shown  later,  most  of  the  effective  passages  of 
Wagner  are  not  involved  in  the  nature  of  the  music,  drama, 
but  are  superadded,  as  it  were. 


The  Opera  Problem  155 

the  intermissions,  while  the  development  of 
the  plot  becomes  all-important.  Who  would 
venture  to  determine  which  of  these  positions 
was  the  correct  one, — ^which  the  proper  pro- 
portion? Is  it  not  clear  that  one  is  as  legiti- 
mate as  another,  and  that  the  individual's 
preference  will  depend  on  his  mental  trend, 
his  aesthetic  habits,  and  the  contagious  effect 
of  his  fellows'  tastes?  A  monotonous,  regu- 
lar succession  of  sounds  will  by  one  person  be 
arranged  into  groups  of  three,  by  another 
into  groups  of  four:  objectively  there  is  no 
stronger  basis  for  either  arrangement,  one 
being  as  justifiable  as  the  other;  so,  likewise, 
the  individual  is  free  to  attune  himself  to  the 
reception  of  any  combination  of  musical  and 
dramatic  elements. 

Hitherto,  we  have  seen,  the  poetic  side  has 
usually  been  moulded  to  suit  the  needs  of  the 
musical.  This  seems  to  rest  on  a  simple, 
practical  consideration,  namely,  the  difficulty 
of  singing  words  with  clear  and  intelligible 
enunciation.  If  two  arts  are  to  cooperate  in 
producing  an  impressive  effect,  both  must  be 
open  to  perception.  It  will  not  help  us  to 
adorn  a  building  with  statues  and  paintings 
which  are  hidden  from  view ;  a  ballet  will  not 


156  The  Opera  Problem 

please  us  if  it  is  performed  behind  the  curtain, 
so  that  nothing  but  the  accompanying  music 
reaches  our  senses.  Likewise  poetry  cannot 
remain  on  a  footing  of  equality  with  music  if 
the  very  mode  of  its  presentation  bars  its 
perception.  Wecannot  expect  •peopleJxi^o 
into  raptures  over  words  which  they  are 
unable^toIc^cEror  to  manifest  delight  over' 
Ihe  musical  reflection  of  poetic  sentiment, 
when  this  sentimentjEjiiddeiiJb^^^ 
of  drapin^.iQnes^__ 

Three  methods  of  seizing  the  words  are 
possible :  the  first  is  the  natural  one  of  catching 
them  while  they  are  being  sung,  the  second 
consists  in  following  them  in  the  libretto,  and 
the  third,  in  reading  or  learning  them  before- 
hand. The  first  method,  as  we  have  seen,  is 
inefficacious.  Short  songs  may  occasionally 
be  rendered  intelligibly  in  a  parlour  or  a  hall 
of  moderate  dimensions, — although  even  under 
these  most  favourable  conditions  many  words 
will  generally  elude  the  listeners  if  they  are 
unfamiliar  with  the  text.  But  in  opera,  which 
lasts  throughout  a  whole  evening,  which  is 
presented  in  large  theatres,  and  in  which  the 
singing  is  accompanied  by  immense  modern 
orchestras,  the  case  is  different :  all  the  condi- 


The  Opera  Problem  157 

tions  of  operatic  rendition,  indeed,  make  it 
extremely  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  the 
words  to  stand  forth  intelligibly,  without 
prompting  from  the  libretto  or  memory. 

Turning  to  the  other  two  methods,  we  find 
them  equally  unsatisfactory.  There  is  a 
physical  obstacle  to  the  reading  of  the  libretto, 
in  the  darkness  prevailing  in  our  theatres. 
Besides,  such  a  reading  is  not  likely  to  enhance 
enjoyment:  the  attention  is  divided  between 
the  book  and  the  music,  and  the  calm,  re- 
ceptive attitude  necessary  for  aesthetic  enjoy- 
ment gives  way  to  a  strained  and  studious 
one.  As  for  the  previous  study  of  the  libretto, 
that  is  a  condition  which  will  be  complied  with 
by  few  people ;  indeed,  its  adequate  compliance 
is  almost  out  of  question.  It  is  possible,  of 
course,  to  learn  the  plot  of  an  opera  from  a 
preliminary  reading, — possible  even  to  gain 
some  idea  of  its  more  intimate  contents;  but 
an  adequate  appreciation  of  the  correspon- 
dence between  words  and  music — on  which 
the  beauty  of  the  new  art-work  largely  de- 
pends— requires  a  memorisation  so  exact 
and  minute  that  not  one  in  a  thousand  would 
be  willing  to  make  it. 

The  fundamental  condition  for  the  exalted 


158  The  Opera  Problem 

position  given  the  words,  i.  e.,  their  per- 
cept ibihty,  is  accordingly  lacking.  The  ques- 
tion is  sometimes  asked:  Why  is  it  that 
people,  while  demanding  that  their  plays 
be  performed  in  their  own  tongues,  will  per- 
mit their  operas  to  be  sung  in  foreign  lan- 
guages ?  The  answer  is  obvious :  it  would  not 
help  them  much,  so  far  as  comprehension  is 
concerned,  to  have  it  otherwise;  the  words 
are  imperfectly  seized  at  best,  and  the  atten- 
tion is  forcibly  diverted  toward  the  music. 
Indeed,  people  realise  this,  and  hardly  expect 
to  understand  much  of  the  text;  they  attend 
the  opera  for  the  sake  of  the  music;  they 
regard  it  as  a  species  of  tone-work,  not  as  a 
species  of  poetry. 

In  the  difficulty  of  understanding  the  words 
we  have  probably  struck  the  rock  bottom, 
or  we  may  say  rather  the  shifting  quicksand 
bottom,  of  our  troubles.  One  auditor  may 
know  nothing  of  the  text,  another  may  have 
learned  it  by  heart ;  a  third  may  be  acquainted 
with  its  general  drift,  seizing  the  passages 
which  are  rendered  by  the  singer  who  enunci- 
ates clearly,  but  failing  to  comprehend  those 
which  come  from  the  one  with  poor  articula- 
tion.     The   stable    foundation,    accordingly, 


The  Opera  Problem  159 

for  the  construction  of  a  work  of  art  is  lacking. 
He  who  knows  nothing  of  the  text  will  appre- 
ciate formal  numbers  and  find  the  recitative 
passages  tedious;  he,  on  the  contrary,  who 
lias  read  the  libretto  may  find  the  latter  full 
of  interest,  while  being  repelled  by  the  arti- 
ficiality of  the  former.  The  single  numbers 
will  produce  different  effects,  according  to  the 
accidental  amount  of  familiarity  with  the 
words.  Manifestly  no  composer  can  write 
adequately  under  such  conditions.  He  must 
proceed  in  accordance  with  one  or  the  other 
presupposition  throughout:  either  the  words 
are  to  be  intelligible  or  they  are  not;  but 
neither  presupposition,  we  have  seen,  agrees 
with  the  actual  status,  whence  the  uncertainty 
of  the  results. 

The  fourth  problem  concerns  the  union  of 
music  and  action.  Music  must  not  only  ac- 
company the  text,  but  also  the  movements 
and  gestures  of  the  actors.  Again  it  becomes 
a  question  whether  the  steps  of  this  pair,  like 
those  of  poetry  and  music,  are  not  by  nature 
opposed  to  each  other,  their  union  being  bound 
to  hamper  the  one  or  the  other  in  its  free  and 
natural  development.  The  works  of  Wagner, 
at  least,  arc  not  very  reassuring  on  this  point. 


i6o  The  Opera  Problem 

How  painful  to  watch  a  heroine  trying  to 
fill  out  a  number  of  bars  in  the  orchestra  with 
a  slow  and  measured,  orbit-like  extension  of 
her  arms,  inch  by  inch,  until  finally,  with  the 
conclusion  of  the  passage,  aphelion  is  reached ; 
or  to  count  the  moments  during  which  two 
lovers  stand  ready  to  embrace  each  other, 
timing  their  unnatural  pose  with  the  baton- 
strokes  of  the  conductor,  and  awaiting  the 
delivering  note,  which  allows  them  to  rush 
together.  It  is  especially  after  seeing  some 
well  acted  drama  that  the  unreality  of  such 
movements  is  impressed:  the  actors  seem  to 
be  paralysed,  erstarrt,  and  the  various  poses, 
as  they  succeed  one  another,  resemble  the 
single  views  of  a  kinematographic  series  in  the 
slowness  of  the  advance.  The  true  counterpart 
of  music,  in  the  realm  of  pose  and  gesture,  is 
the  dance,  just  as  the  true  verbal  counterpart 
is  the  traditional  libretto,  with  all  its  inanities. 
But  if  both  gestures  and  words  must  suffer 
such  a  transformation — or  deterioration  from 
the  standpoint  of  naturalness — in  order  to 
adapt  themselves  to  the  highest  music,  is  it  not 
likely  that  music  must  suffer  a  similar  change 
if  it  is  to  adapt  itself  to  the  natural,  uncon- 
strained progression  of  words  and  movements? 


The  Opera  Problem  i6i 

In  conclusion  the  question  might  be  asked 
whether  the  very  conditions  of  perception, 
the  limitations  of  attention,  do  not  form  a 
bar  to  the  adequate  enjoyment  of  simultaneous 
visual  and  auditory  phenomena.  The  ques- 
tion occurs  as  a  result  of  my  own  experience 
at  the  opera:  it  has  often  happened  that  for 
long  sections  of  time  I  have  heard  nothing  of 
the  music ;  the  overture  may  have  been  effec- 
tive, but  with  the  rise  of  the  curtain  all  audi- 
tory impressions  were  precipitately  banished 
from  consciousness, — chased  away  by  the  im- 
portunate, powerful  horde  of  sights  with  which 
I  was  besieged.  The  opposite,  I  imagine,  may 
also  be  true,  sounds  obtruding  themselves  so 
strongly  as  to  obliterate  the  sights.  And 
in  the  endeavour  to  catch  the  words,  both 
music  and  action  are  sometimes  neglected. 
Thus  there  would  be  a  natural  obstacle  to  the 
harmonious  cooperation  of  dramatic  action 
(with  words)  and  music ;  any  balance  that  the 
composer  might  put  into  his  works  would 
immediately  be  destroyed  by  the  recipient: 
one  would  polarise  the  works  through  his 
optical  mind,  another  through  the  auditory, 
one  look  for  dramas  and  spectacular  exhibi- 
tions, the  other  for  beautiful  music;  we  should 


i62  The  Opera  Problem 

require  separate  music  dramas  for  visualisers 
and  mtdiles,  and  a  new  Bayreuth  would  rise 
by  the  side  of  the  old. 

This  would  complete  our  view  of  the  various 
conflicts  and  problems  of  opera,  as  they  ob- 
struct the  realisation  of  the  perfect  art-work 
of  the  future.  First,  there  is  the  conflict 
between  naturalness  and  dramatic  singing; 
second,  between  formally  beautiful  and  ex- 
pressive music;  third,  between  the  words 
and  the  tones  with  which  they  are  invested ; 
fourth,  between  music  and  action;  and  fifth, 
between  the  various  sensual  and  mental 
faculties.  Opera,  indeed,  has  to  run  the 
gauntlet  of  so  many  difficulties  that  it  is 
doubtful  whether  it  can  emerge  without 
mutilation. 

To  strengthen  this  conclusion,  let  us  add 
some  considerations  of  a  historic  nature. 
Whatever  may  be  the  possibilities  of  the 
future,  the  fact  is  that  up  to  the  present  the 
ideal  opera  has  not  appeared.  We  speak 
of  classic  works  of  architecture,  sculpture, 
literature,  and  instrumental  music,  but  rarely 
of  classic  operas.  In  all  the  other  arts,  and 
even  in  most  branches  of  the  musical  art, 
we  possess  productions  which  may  be  stamped 


The  Opera  Problem  163 

as  perfect, — productions  which  seem  to  em- 
body the  highest  that  is  attainable  in  their 
special  directions,  and  beyond  which  it  is  not 
easily  possible  to  go;  productions  charac- 
terised by  such  an  exquisite  balance  of  ele- 
ments that  they  are  universally  regarded 
as  unapproachable  models.  For  sculpture 
witness  the  statues  of  Phidias,  for  architecture 
the  Grecian  temples;  for  painting  turn  to  the 
Madonnas  of  Raphael,  for  poetry  to  the  dramas 
of  Sophocles  and  Moli^re.  Certain  kinds  of 
music  exhibit  the  same  perfection,  the  fugues 
of  Bach  representing  the  older,  strictly  con- 
trapuntal style,  the  symphonies  of  Beethoven 
crowning  the  more  modern,  instrumental 
type,  and  Schubert's  Lieder  standing  for  the 
lyric  song. 

This  perfection  is  absent  in  opera.  There 
are  great  operas  enough,  to  be  sure,  but  they 
are  not  of  that  balanced,  rounded  character 
which  would  tempt  us  to  apply  the  epithets 
perfect  or  model  to  them.  There  is  always 
some  shortcoming,  some  undue  preponderance 
of  certain  elements,  with  a  resulting  sacrifice 
of  others. 

To  begin  with  there  is,  in  the  works  pre- 
ceding  Wagner,   that   preponderance   of   the 


i64  The  Opera  Problem 

musical  and  neglect  of  the  dramatic  elements 
which  the  master  so  justly  condemns,  even 
the  works  of  Gluck  falling  short  of  the  Wag- 
nerian standard  in  this  respect.  But  if  the 
older  operas  fail  through  their  disregard  of 
the  dramatic  elements,  those  of  Wagner 
are  deficient  through  a  neglect  of  the  formal. 
However  great  their  merits  and  beauties  may 
be — and  it  is  not  our  desire  to  minimise  them 
— they  contain  much  that  is  tedious:  not 
only  are  they  for  the  greater  part  inordi- 
nately long — so  long  that  they  are  rarely 
given  without  cuts — but  they  harbour  des- 
erts of  tiresome  recitative  which  are  hardly 
balanced  even  by  the  oases  of  stirring  instru- 
mental and  melodious  vocal  passages.  Fur- 
thermore, those  portions  which  are  universally 
adjudged  the  most  beautiful  and  by  which  the 
master  is  most  widely  known,  are  not  the 
ones  on  which  the  theory  of  the  new  art- 
work lays  stress — the  recitatives — but  rather 
the  instrumental  portions  and  the  more 
melodious  solos,  concerted  numbers,  and 
choruses,  as  witness  the  famous  preludes  and 
overtures;  the  march.  Pilgrims'  Chorus,  and 
Song  to  the  Evening  Star  from  Tannhduser;  the 
Prize  Song  from  Die  Meister singer;  the  Spring 


The  Opera  Problem  165 

Song,  Ride  of  the  Valkyries,  and  Magic  Fire 
Scene  from  Die  Walkilre;  the  Waldwcben 
from  Siegfried;  the  Song  of  the  Rhine-daugh- 
ters from  G otter ddmmerung;  and  the  Flower 
Scene  from  Parsifal. 

The  music  dramas  of  Wagner,  indeed,  do 
not  represent  the  ideal  opera;  they  do  not 
reach  that  level  of  perfection  attained  by  the 
s5miphonies  of  Beethoven  and  the  comedies 
of  Moliere.  While  this  is  no  proof  that  the 
perfect  opera  is  essentially  impossible  of  re- 
alisation, it  is  a  fact  that  the  opera  has, 
in  number  of  years,  long  passed  the  stage 
at  which  most  other  branches  of  art  have 
reached  the  zenith  of  their  glory.  There  is 
a  remarkable  agreement  between  the  various 
arts  in  this  respect.  Almost  without  excep- 
tion the  stride  toward  perfection,  the  con- 
summation of  a  great  art-movement,  has  been 
accomplished  in  a  period  not  covering  more 
than  a  century  or  two.  The  brilliant  epoch 
of  Greek  sculpture  began  about  600  B.C., 
only  116  years  before  the  birth  of  Phidias. 
Gothic  architecture  made  its  appearance 
early  in  the  twelfth  century,  and  a  hundred 
years  later  witnessed  the  beginning  of  its 
crowning  monument,  the  cathedral  of  Amiens. 


i66  The  Opera  Problem 

Cimabue  and  Giotto,  the  Nestors  of  Italian 
painting,  were  born  in  1240  and  1276  respec- 
tively, Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  Raphael  in  1452 
and  1483.  About  the  same  span  separates 
the  terminal  figures  of  Flemish  painting,  the 
birth  of  the  Van  Eycks  falling  into  the  latter 
half  of  the  fourteenth  century,  that  of  Ru- 
bens into  the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth. 
In  France,  literary  classicism  required  but 
little  over  a  century  to  develop  to  the  height 
of  its  glory, — from  Ronsard  to  Racine;  and 
German  classicism  made  the  step  from  Klop- 
stock  to  Goethe  in  less  than  a  century.  Early 
contrapuntal  music  extended  over  a  period 
of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  from 
Dufay  to  Palestrina.  Instrumental  music 
budded  forth  in  the  latter  half  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  by  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth  had  reached  its  culmination  in 
Beethoven.  Artistic  song,  finally,  jumped 
to  its  pinnacle  of  excellence  in  a  few  decades. 

Opera  forms  a  decided  contrast  to  all  this. 
Although  from  the  very  beginning  one  of  the 
most  assiduously  cultivated  of  all  musical 
forms,  it  has  not  yet,  after  three  hundred 
years,  arrived  at  the  stage  of  perfection  exem- 
plified in  so  many  other  forms  of  art  and 


The  Opera  Problem  167 

music.  Instead  there  have  been  perpetual 
conflicts  between  the  adherents  of  rival 
schools,  and  even  to-day  we  are  informed 
that  the  entire  theory  and  practice  up 
to  Wagner  has  been  faulty,  and  that  a  new 
departure  must  be  made  for  the  attainment 
of  the  ideal.  Although  this  exceptional  po- 
sition, this  tardy  advance,  is  no  absolute 
proof  that  perfection  is  impossible,  yet, 
coupled  with  the  theoretic  considerations,  it 
has  some  weight,  reinforcing  the  conviction 
that  there  is  some  special,  inherent  obstacle 
to  perfection. 

As  to  the  future,  it  is  precarious  to  venture 
a  prophecy.  The  example  of  the  past  might 
lead  us  to  expect  a  return  to  musical  su- 
premacy. But  whatever  form  of  opera  may 
triumph,  we  must  not  suppose  that  any  one 
form  is  necessarily  more  legitimate  than 
another.  The  true  position  in  the  whole 
matter,  it  seems,  is  that  which  includes  both 
the  Wagnerian  and  the  ant i- Wagnerian  ten- 
dencies, or  better,  which  excludes  them  both. 
Both  sides  have  their  valid  claims,  and  both 
have  their  weaknesses.  Wagner  is  justified 
in  his  opposition  to  the  absurdities  of  the 
older  opera,  and  his  insistence  on   dramatic 


i68  The  Opera  Problem 

truth;  but  the  Italians  are  also  justified  in 
upholding  musical  beauty.  The  choice  of 
parties  will  depend  on  personal  inclination, 
prevailing  tendencies,  and  other  extrinsic 
factors. 

And  whatever  efforts  may  be  made  to  unite 
the  conflicting  currents,  it  is  doubtful  whether 
the  ideal  opera,  satisfying  every  faction,  will 
ever  be  completely  realised.  The  highest  ex- 
cellence seems  to  belong  to  music  and  drama 
in  isolation.  Combine  them,  and  you  pair 
off  two  hostile  sets  of  demands.  There  will 
always  be  beautiful  operas  enough,  but  they 
will  not  attain  that  state  of  perfection  which  is 
the  glory  of  the  single  arts. 


THE  EXPRESSION    OF    EMOTIONS    IN 

MUSIC  ^ 

A  COLLECTION  of  little  lines,  scattered 
about  at  random,  is  meaningless  and 
uninteresting ;  having  no  further  signifi- 
cance, it  fails  to  arrest  our  attention,  which 
wanders  off  to  more  stimulating  objects.  If 
the  lines  are  grouped  into  a  square  or  an  octa- 
gon, our  eye  lingers  a  trifle  longer:  there  is 
plan  and  purpose  in  the  grouping,  and  we 
are  confronted  with  a  definite  form.  And  if, 
finally,  they  are  arranged  so  as  to  form  a 
crude  representation  of  a  house  or  an  animal, 
their  appeal  is  more  intimate  still:  having 
acquired  significance,  they  possess  an  interest 
far  beyond  that  of  the  chaotic  grouping  or 
the  geometrical  figure. 

So  also  if  we  listen  to  the  hubbub  of  noises 
from  a  busy  street.  At  first  we  merely  get 
a  medley  of  meaningless  sounds.     If  wc  iso- 

«  Reprinted  from  The  Philosophical  Reviciv,  July,  1903, 
with  the  permission  of  the  editor. 

169 


lyo  The  Expression  of 

late  the  rhythmic  clatter  of  a  horse's  hoofs, 
we  obtain  an  individualised,  ordered  series  of 
sounds,  comparable  to  the  geometric  figure. 
And  if  we  hear  somebody  shout  from  the 
sidewalk,  announcing  a  public  calamity,  we 
prick  up  our  mental  ears  and  strain  our  necks 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  speaker.  The  sounds 
which  produce  this  effect  also  have  significance 
and  symbolic  value,  and  it  is  this  which  gives 
them  their  firm  grasp  on  our  attention. 

Poetry,  painting,  and  sculpture  deal  with 
symbolic  values  like  these.  Their  works  are 
enlarged  and  complicated  cases  similar  to  the 
crude  sketch  and  the  significant  utterance. 
Like  these,  they  represent  and  convey  mes- 
sages, only  their  representations  are  more 
minute  and  detailed,  their  messages  more 
elaborate. 

What  is  the  case  when  we  turn  from  poetry 
and  fine  art  to  music?  If  I  strike  the  note 
c  on  the  piano,  nobody  will  detect  a  repre- 
sentative value  in  the  resulting  sound ;  a  mere 
tone,  it  corresponds  to  one  of  the  scattered 
lines,  or  a  meaningless  noise  from  the  street. 
Combined  with  e  and  g,  likewise,  it  embodies 
no  expressive  value,  like  that  of  the  sketch  or 
the  startling  announcement :  it  is  an  auditory 


Emotions  in  Music  171 

form,  comparable  to  the  geometric  figure,  and 
without  further  recognisable  purport.  Even 
when  I  bind  together  a  few  chords  in  a  har- 
monic exercise,  significance  would  still  seem 
to  be  lacking.  If  the  triad  resembles  a 
regular  figure,  the  sequence  is  comparable 
to  a  shifting,  connected  series  of  figures,  like 
the  varying  shapes  of  a  kaleidoscope.^'f^tL^ 

Does  the  matter  assume  a  different  aspect 
when  we  come  to  longer  passages,  worked 
out  in  greater  complication  and  detail,  or  to 
complete  compositions,  like  the  sonatas  and 
symphonies  of  Beethoven?  Does  the  music, 
like  the  lines  and  the  sounds  of  the  speaker, 
develop  a  suggestive  quality,  does  it  become 
representative  of  extraneous  facts  ? 

The  question  has  formed  the  basis  of  endless 
controversies.  On  the  one  hand  there  are  the 
formalists,  headed  by  the  renowned  critic 
Eduard  Hanslick,  who  maintain  that  music 
is^  merely  a  beautiful  play  of  toneSj^  effective 
solely  through  its  formal  relations,  and  with- 
out reference  to  extra-musical  realities.  Op- 
posed to  them  are  the  "expressionists.,"  who 
contend  that  like  poetry  and  painting  it 
has  a  significant  content  or  meaning,  which 
raises  it  from  the  level  of  a  worthless   kalei- 


/ 


172  The  Expression  of 

doscopic  pastime  to  that  of  a  true  and  noble 
art. 

The  decision  between  these  views  is  not 
easy.  True,  if  music  were  confined  to  the 
isolated  chords  and  harmonic  exercises  men- 
tioned above,  we  should  not  hesitate  in  siding 
with  the  formalists.  But  when  we  turn  to 
Beethoven's  Pastoral  Symphony,  with  its 
Scene  at  the  Brook,  Storm,  and  Shepherd's  Song, 
in  which  states  of  mind  and  objective  occur- 
rences are  so  charmingly  suggested;  when  we 
recall  the  descriptive  overtures  of  Mendels- 
sohn, the  vivid  tone-pictures  of  Berlioz,  the 
exquisite  sketches  of  Schumann;  when  we 
consider  the  masterful  delineation  of  thought 
and  action  throughout  the  music  dramas  of 
Richard  Wagner, — we  must  certainly  agree 
that  the  champions  of  expression  are  not 
theorising  on  air,  and  that  it  will  not  do  to 
ignore  their  claims. 

In  view  of  such  compositions  we  must  admit 
that  music  can  and  may  represent  extra- 
j  musical  things.  It  can  directly  imitate  cer- 
l  tain  natural  sounds,  like  the  song  of  birds 
and  the  noises  of  animals.  Examples  are  to 
to  found  in  Haydn's  Creation  and  Beetho- 
Ven's    Pastoral   Symphony.     Again,    it   may 


Emotions  in  Music  173 

symbolically  represent  many  physical  occur- 
rences.    It   can   flow   along   smoothly,  swell 
forth  with  power,  subside  again,  sweep  by  ma- 
jestically, burst  forth  in  crashes,  trip  lightly, 
rustle   delicately,  move  boldly,  hesitatingly, 
calmly,  playfully.     And  through  these  modes 
of  motion  it  is  able  to  suggest  and  in  a  sym- 
bolic manner  portray,  many  natural  as  well 
as  artificial  occurrences  and  actions.     It  can 
represent  the  fury  of  the  storm,  the  bubbling 
of  the  brook,  the  rustling  of  the  wind,  the 
rotation  of  the  spinning  wheel,  the  trotting 
of  the  horse,  and  numerous  other  poetic  mani- 
festations   of    nature    and    life.     The    storm 
scene  of  the  Pastoral  Symphony,  the  prelude ^ 
of    Wagner's    Walkure,    the    Waldwebcn    of 
his  Siegfried,  and  the  whole  class  of  cradle' 
and   spinning   songs,  are  familiar  examples. 
Thirdly,  since  emotional  states  also  have  a 
kind  of  internal  motion,  which  can  be  duph- 
cated  in  the  musical  flow,  music  is  able  to 
portray  and  give  expression  to  such  states. 
We  have  calm,   agitated,  stormy,  hurrying, 
hesitating,   rushing,  energetic,  playful  states 
of  mind  and  soul;  which  are  capable  of  finding 
expression  in  the  analogous  progressions  of 
the  musical  art. 


174  The  Expression  of 

The  important  question  now  arises  whether 
music  must,  like  poetry  and  painting,  give 
expression  to  extra-musical  facts,  whether  it 
is  of  its  essence  to  portray  and  imitate,  and 
whether  portrayal  and  imitation  may  be 
adopted  as  criterions  in  judging  of  the  value 
of  any  particular  composition? 

Here  we  may  at  once  drop  the  first  two 
kinds  of  portrayal:  the  representation  of  ma- 
terial sounds  and  processes,  though  by  no 
means  rare,  is  on  the  whole  of  a  sporadic 
nature,  and  has  never  been  regarded  as  the 
peculiar  function  of  music.  It  is  rather  the 
portrayal  of  emotions  which  has  been  insisted 
on  by  the  champions  of  expression;  and  in 
endeavouring  to  decide  between  the  two 
parties  we  shall  only  regard  this  aspect  of  the 
matter.  We  shall  ^sk  ourselves:  Is  music 
merely  a  formal  play  of  tones,  a  sounding 
kaleidoscope,  without  further  import  and 
meaning;  or  has  it  rather  the  peculiar  office 
of  representing  and  giving  expression  to  the 
emotions  ? 

The  answer  is  a  compromise,  based  on  cer- 

Itain  distinctions  between  the  meanings  of  the 

word  expression.     In  one  sense  of  the  word 

the  formalists  seem  to  be  right,  in  another, 


Kf? 


Emotions  in  Music  175 

their  opponents.  On  the  whole,  we  incline 
toward  the  position  of  the  formalists,  whose 
use  of  the  word  is  more  precise,  and  more 
-^ij  congruent  with  its  ordinary  signification.  If 
expression  corresponds  to  the  definite  embodi- 
ment of  ideas  in  works  of  literature,  or  the 
delineation  of  forms  in  sculpture  and 
painting,  if  it  is  approximately  synonymous  \^)^'^ 
with  representation,  portrayal,  or  imitation, — 
then  we  should  say  that  the  formalists  were 
right,  and  that  it  was  not  the  office  of  music 
to  delineate  or  "express"  the  emotions.  As 
this  is  the  sense  in  which  we  have  been  using 
the  word  so  far,  we  shall  adhere  to  it  for  the 
time  being,  postponing  a  consideration  of  the 
other  meanings  until  a  later  page.  Our  con- 
tention will  then  be,  that  it  is  not  of  the 
essence  of  music  to  express  emotions,  that  it 
need  not  convey  meanings,  and  that  its  effec- ; 
tiveness,  so  far  as  apparent,  is  confined  to  the 
mere  tones  and  their  combinations. 

In  support  of  this  view  it  can  be  shown 
that  there  are  innumerable  compositions — 
even  masterpieces — in  which  we  can  detect 
no  expression  of  feelings.  Take  the  Andante 
from  Beethoven's  tenth  sonata.  Surely  an 
exquisite    piece    of    music,    sparkling    with 


176  The  Expression  of 

beauties,  in  which  almost  every  measure,  like 
a  separate  gem,  contains  charms  of  its  own. 
Where,  however,  is  the  expression  of  emotion  ? 
Does  the  emotion  lie  in  the  first  measures? 
Or  does  it  belong  to  the  first  part  of  the  com- 
position as  a  whole;  and  in  this  case  are  the 
other  portions  mere  continuations  of  the  same 
feeling,  or  does  every  part  express  a  different 
state  of  affection?  Or  finally,  is  it  exhaled|lii:( 
by  the  composition  in  its  entirety,  and  not  by 
any  particular  sections  ?  For  myself,  I  con- 
fess that  I  am  unable  to  detect  the  expression 
of  emotion  either  in  the  separate  parts  or  in  the 
piece  as  a  whole ;  yet  I  have  frequently  derived 
genuine  aesthetic  enjoyment  from  this  piece. 
My  pleasure,  however,  is  based  on  its  pecul- 
iarly musical  aspects.  I  enjoy  the  delight- 
fully simple  character  of  the  main  theme, 
the  exquisitely  appropriate  alternations  of 
legato  and  staccato,  piano  and  forte,  the  in- 
teresting disguises  of  the  theme  in  the  vari- 
ations, and  the  admirable  grouping  of  these 
variations.  I  enjoy  the  pure  music  of  it  all, 
and  seek  for  no  extraneous  meaning;  the 
tones  are  adequate  by  themselves,  and  re- 
quire no  interpretative  commentary  in  order 
to  thrill  and  satisfy  me. 


Emotions  in  Music  177 

The  same  is  true  of  many  other  composi- 
tions. Take  Chopin's  waltz  in  A  flat  major 
or  the  minuet  from  Don  Juan;  take  the  fugues 
of  the  old  contrapuntists  or  the  dance  tunes 
of  to-day:  would  it  not  seem  arbitrary  to 
proclaim  these  as  the  media  of  expression? 
Dance  music  may  be  gay  in  character,  but 
we  could  hardly  style  it  an  expression  of 
gaiety :  it  is  gay,  but  does  not  represent  gaiety. 
The  nucleus  of  our  enjoyment,  in  such  music, 
depends  on  purely  musical  elements, — on 
the  delightful  rhythms,  entrancing  melodies, 
and  sensuous  beauty  of  the  tones.  But  as 
Hanslick  says,  in  commenting  on  the  whole- 
sale exceptions  to  the  expressionistic  thesis: 
"If  large  departments  of  art,  which  can  be 
defended  both  on  historical  and  aesthetic 
grounds,  have  to  be  passed  over  for  the 
sake  of  a  theory,  it  may  be  concluded  that 
such  a  theory  is  false."  ^ 

These  considerations  alone  ought  to  suffice 
for  a  proof;  but  they  are  supplemented  by 
others  of  almost  equal  force.  Not  only  do  we 
have  effective  compositions  without  note- 
worthy expression,  but  we  also  have  expressive 

•  The  Beautiful  in  Music  (translated  by  Gustav  Cohen), 
London  and  New  York,  iSyi,  p.  43. 


178  The  Expression  of 

compositions  with  but  moderate  effectiveness. 
Witness  our  operatic  recitatives,  written  with 
a  view  to  the  faithful  interpretation  of  the 
text,  but  often  painfully  tedious.  Witness 
the  programme  music  of  the  modern  masters, 
avowedly  delineative  in  character,  but  fre- 
quently inferior  to  the  " absolute"  style  of  the 
older  schools.  All  degrees  of  value  or  worth- 
lessness,  indeed,  are  coupled  with  expression. 
While  expression,  however,  does  not  invaria- 
bly point  to  value,  formal  beauty — of  melody, 
harmony,  or  structure — always  does.  We 
can  always  say,  when  listening  to  a  beautiful 
composition :  "  What  exquisite  melody !  What 
interesting  counterpoint  I  What  wealth  of  har- 
mony!" or  something  of  the  sort, — but  not 
necessarily,  "What  wonderful  expression!" 

And  as  we  may  have  all  degrees  of  merit 
accompanying  expression,  so,  to  approach 
the  question  from  the  other  side  once  more, 
we  may  have  all  degrees  of  expression  ac- 
companying worth  (or  worthlessness) .  Many 
beautiful  compositions,  as  mentioned,  are  not 
delineative  in  character  at  all ;  but  even  where 
there  is  expression,  it  bears  no  constant 
relation  to  the  beauty.  It  may  range 
through  all  degrees  of  prominence — from  its 


Emotions  in  Music  179 


,Mo 


vaguest  and  most  incipient  presence  to  the 
definite   delineation   of   programme   music — 
without  offering  us  the  least  indication  of  the 
value  of  the  music.     We  have  little  or  no  ; 
expression  in  many  of  the  fugues  and  instru-  ! 
mental   compositions   of   the   older   masters,  1 
and   considerable   in   our    modern   romanzas  ' 
and  recitatives, — yet  the  former  may  excel 
the    latter.     We    have    more    expression    in } 
Beethoven's  fifth  and  sixth  symphonies  than 
in  his  eighth,  yet  one  would  hesitate  ofifhand  FlH 
to  pronounce  any  one  of  these  works  decidedly 
superior  to  the  others.     Marx  divides  music 
into   three   classes, — tone-play,    language   of 
feeling  (or  music  of  the  soul),  and  ideal  repre- 
sentation (or  music  of  the  mind  and  spirit) ; 
and  he  includes  Beethoven's  splendid  sonata 
Op.     53    in    the    class    of   mere    tone-play, 
while   mimbers   one    and    two    come    under 
the   heading   of    language    of    feeling.     Yet 
who  would    for  a  mc^ment  dream  of   setting 
these    earlier  efforts   above    the  magnificent 
Waldstein  ? 

In  view  of  all  these  converging  and  rein- 
forcing lines  of  argument,  our  conclusion 
ought  now  to  stand  forth  clearly.  The  whole 
literature  of  music  appears  like  an  elaborate, 

<  ^  ■  '^ 


i8o  The  Expression  of 

systematic  experiment,  which  demonstrates 
that  musical  beauty  is  not  connected  primarily 
with  the  expression  of  emotions.  This  con- 
clusion might  perhaps  have  been  gained  even 
more  quickly  by  direct  introspection.  A 
careful  examination  of  our  state  of  mind 
during  the  appreciation  of  a  piece  of  music 
would  show  that  our  enjoyment  had  its  main 
roots,  not  in  the  recognition  of  expression, 
but  in  the  unique,  indefinable,  intrinsically  ^"^ 
musical  qualities  of  the  tones.  The  greater 
part  of  the  musical  beauty  remains  unex- 
plained from  the  expressionist ic  point  of 
view,  and  falls  through  the  interpretative 
S^\^l  meshes.  The  expression  only  becomes  evi- 
dent upon  the  rendition  of  longer  sections, 
or  crops  out  at  isolated  moments,  while  the 
enjoyment  is  always  present,  dropping  into 
the  mind  measure  by  measure  or  even  note  by 
note.  Even  the  most  extreme  expression- 
ists admit  that  the  interpretation  cannot  be 
hunted  down  to  the  individual  bars.  Would 
not  the  conclusion  seem  to  follow  that  the 
musical  beauty,  which  adheres  to  the  bars, 
does  not  depend  on  interpretation  ? 

But    pending    the    personal    introspection  '/  = 
involved  in  the  establishment  of  this  conclu- 


Emotions  in  Music 


i»i 


sion,  the  differences  in  the  amount  of  expres- 
sion which  various  people  find  in  the  same 
composition,  and  the  similarity  of  the  accom- 
panying enjoyment,  point  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. We  may  have  the  most  elaborate 
interpretations  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  total 
lack  of  interpretation  on  the  other,  with  many 
intermediate  degrees,  yet  the  enjoyment  may 
be  equally  deep  and  genuine  in  all  cases. 
Gustav  Engel  finds  that  the  introduction  to 
the  second  act  of  Fidclio  portrays  the  severe, 
undeserved  suffering  of  a  noble  man,  who  for 
the  sake  of  virtue  and  justice  has  become  the 
victim  of  a  villain.  Hanslick,  on  the  other 
hand,  would  probably  detect  very  little  rep- 
resentation whatever;  yet  his  enjoyment  is 
presimiably  as  real  as  Engel 's.  It  is  allowa- 
ble, of  course,  to  read  meanings  into  the  art, 
a  procedure  which  may  at  times  produce 
considerable  heightening  of  pleasure.  The 
point  to  be  observed  is,  that  musical  enjoy- 
ment does  not  depend  on  interpretations,  and 
that  it  may  also  be  reaped  by  those  who 
'h  :[/|abstain  from  making  them. 

This,  indeed,  is  the  crucial  point,  that  com- 
positions may  be  thoroughly  enjoyed,  not 
only  by  those  who  regard  them  as  the  embodi- 


1 82  The  Expression  of 

ment  of  emotions,  but  also  by  those  who 
accept  the  formalistic  view.  The  enjoyment 
can  be  explained  just  as  easily  by  reference 
to  the  exquisite  instrumentation,  the  rich 
harmony,  and  the  enchanting  flow  of  melody, 
as  by  an  appeal  to  the  emotions  which  are 
supposed  to  be  depicted.  We  need  not  think 
of  anything  but  these  purely  musical  beauties, 
as  the  cause  of  our  enjoyment, — we  need 
make  no  reference  to  external  meanings.  So 
we  are  brought  back  once  more  to  the  formal- 
istic conclusion,  that  the  expression  of  emotions 
is  no  essential  function  of  music,  and  that  the 
art  is  primarily  a  mere  empty  play  of  tones. 

Let  us  repeat,  however,  that  this  conclu- 
sion is  connected  with  one  particular  meaning 
of  the  word,  and  that  there  are  other  meanings, 
according  to  which  it  may  be  proper  to  speak 
of  music  as  an  expression  of  the  emotions. 
In  order  to  distinguish  between  the  meanings, 
let  us  bring  them  together  in  the  following 
statement : 

"The  thoughts  which  Emerson  expresses 
in  these  sentences,  and  which  so  aptly  express 
his  innermost  nature,  express  much  that  I 
have  often  vaguely  felt,  but  have  never  been 
able  to  express." 


Emotions  in  Music  183 

Here  we  have  at  least  three  distinct  mean- 
ings of  the  word.  The  first  one  refers  to  the 
specific  thoughts  formulated  by  the  philos- 
opher in  his  sentences, — which  they  alone 
denote,  and  which  no  other  sentences  ever 
written  precisely  convey.  It  refers  to  their 
contents,  to  the  ideas  which  they  embody  and 
present  on  an  intellectual  plate  or  tray,  as  it 
were,  and  which  are  opposed  to  thousands 
of  other  ideas  that  they  might  conceivably 
have  conveyed.  If  one  of  the  sentences 
reads  "Self-trust  is  the  essence  of  heroism," 
it  simply  expresses  this  fact, — not  that  self- 
trust  is  not  the  essence  of  heroism,  or  that 
heroism  is  fine,  or  that  John  kissed  Jane,  or 
two  times  two  make  four.  In  this  sense  litera- 
ture expresses  or  represents  life;  and  in  this 
sense,  we  have  seen,  music  expresses  nothing 
at  all,  and  Hanslick  is  justified  in  calling  it  a 
purely  formal  art. 

The  second  meaning — contained  in  the 
clause:  "which  so  aptly  express  his  inner- 
most nature" — does  not  refer  to  the  directly 
formulated  content  of  the  sentences,  which 
they  were  intended  to  formulate,  but  to  a 
secondary  manifestation  or  side-gleam  of  the 
same,  which  they  exhale,  as  it  were,  and  which 


i84  The  Expression  of 

is  superadded  to  their  central  purpose.  It 
is  in  this  sense  that  a  man's  literary  or  artis- 
tic taste  expresses  the  nature  of  his  education; 
or  his  walk,  voice,  gestures,  and  handwriting 
give  indication  of  his  temperament  and  char- 
acter. Evidently  this  use  of  the  word  is 
entirely  distinct  from  the  first.  We  might 
substitute  other  sentences  for  those  under 
consideration,  thereby  changing  their  direct 
expression  and  yet  retaining  the  other ;  for  the 
substituted  sentences  might  express  the  nature 
of  the  philosopher  fully  as  well  as  the  original 
ones. 

The  third  meaning — embodied  in  the  words : 
"express  much  that  I  have  often  vaguely 
felt" — differs  from  both  the  others.  What 
is  here  expressed  was  already  present  in  the 
mind,  although  vaguely  and  indistinctly, 
and  the  expression  consists  in  matching  and 
arousing  this,  not  in  the  presentation  of  new 
thoughts;  it  refers  to  the  correspondence  be- 
tween my  own  ideas  and  those  presented  by 
the  author,  not  to  the  specific  content  of  the 
latter.  The  same  sentences  might,  in  this 
sense,  express  what  one  person  feels  or  thinks 
and  the  opposite  of  what  another  feels  or 
thinks;   yet   they  would   be   identically   the 


Emotions  in  Music  185 

same  sentences  in  both  cases,  and  would 
express  the  same  thoughts  and  personal 
traits  according  to  the  first  two  meanings  of 
the  word. 

The  case  of  a  virtuoso  will  also  serve  to 
ilhistrate  the  distinctions.  In  the  first  place 
the  composition  he  is  rendering  may  be 
delineative  of  objective  facts  and  feelings. 
This  would  correspond  to  the  direct,  specific 
embodiment  of  thoughts  in  a  piece  of  writing. 
Then  again,  being  selected  by  the  virtuoso 
in  preference  to  other  compositions,  it  may  be 
expressive  of  his  tastes  and  personality — 
which  would  correspond  to  the  reflection  of 
Emerson's  nature  in  the  example  above.  And 
finally  it  may  express  the  feelings  of  the  listen- 
ers, in  the  same  way  in  which  the  sentences 
in  question  reflect  the  thoughts  of  the  reader. 

The  first  type  of  expression  might  be  called 
direct  embodiment,  representation,  or  denotation. 
Three  elements  are  involved  in  it, — two  of 
them  objective,  i.  e.,  the  work  itself  and  the 
expressed  content,  and  one  of  them  subjec- 
tive, the  perceiving  mind. 

The  second  might  be  styled  indirect  embodi- 
ment or  connotation.  Here,  likewise,  three 
factors  are  present:  the  expressing  medium, 


1 86  The  Expression  of 

the  thing  expressed,  and  the  perceiving  mind. 

For  the  third  type  we  might  select  the  words 
parallelism,  contagion,  or  sympathetic  arousal. 
Only  two  elements  are  operative  in  this  case, 
instead  of  three :  one  of  them,  the  expressing 
medium  or  work,  is  objective;  the  other,  the 
perceiving  individual,  is  subjective.  The  con- 
tent lies  in  the  subject  instead  of  the  ob- 
ject, and  the  expression  consists  in  drawing 
this  forth  and  harmonising  with  it,  instead  of 
in  presenting  a  novel,  objective  content. 

Now  music  as  a  whole,  like  the  single  com- 
position of  the  virtuoso,  may  be  expressive 
in  various  ways:  by  denotation,  by  connota- 
tion, and  by  contagion  or  svmpathetic 
arousal!"  But  not  all  varieties  of  expression 
are  equally  important.  The  first  kind,  as 
indicated,  is  not  essential  in  nature;  we  may 
regard  it  as  an  incidental  and  contingent 
factor,  and  agree  with  Hanslick  that  the  in- 
trinsic beauty  of  music  is  not  involved  in  it. 

The  second  kind — ^by  indirect  embodiment 
— is  of  course  present  in  music :  since  every- 
thing we  do  or  practise  is  capable  of  embody-' 
ing  expression  in  this  sense,  music  must 
likewise  be  included.  But  here,  too,  the 
effectiveness  is  not  connected  with  the  ex- 


Emotions  in  Music  187 

pression.  Just  as  a  disagreeable  way  of  shak- 
ing hands  or  laughing  may  form  an  excel- 
lent indication  of  personality,  so  a  mediocre 
composition  may  afford  us  much  insight  into 
the  nature  of  its  composer.  The  amount 
of  connotative  expression  and  the  artistic 
excellence,  in  short,  bear  no  relation  to  each 
other. 

In  regard  to  the  third  kind,  the  case  is 
different.  Here  we  are  not  disinclined  to 
agree  that  expression  forms  an  integral  part 
of  the  very  purpose  and  essence  of  the  art,  in 
the  absence  of  which  music  sinks  to  an  empty 
jingle  or  a  dry  and  quasi-mathematic  intel- 
lectual pastime.  We  do  not  actively  share 
this  view,  but  grant  its  plausibility.  Just  as  a 
speaker's  peroration  or.. poet's  verse  may  voice 
one's  thoughts  and  sentiments,  fitting  them 
so  admirably  as  almost  to  draw  them  forth 
with  magnetic  power,  so  music,  when  one 
fully  enjoys  it,  might  be  supposed  to  elicit 
and  draw  forth  the  feelings,  swaying  to  and 
fro  with  them  as  in  a  delightful  dance  of  the 
soul.  Every  inner  tension,  every  shade  of 
feeling,  is  matched  and  answered  by  a  cor- 
responding movement  of  the  tones.  -  Our 
feeling,  f(jr  instance,  may  be  swelling  with  a 


1 88  The  Expression  of 

crescendo;  just  as  it  is  about  to  call  out 
"enough"  then,  and  ask  for  a  diminuendo ,  lo! 
the  tones  have  answered  its  call  and  the  di- 
minuendo has  begun.  Every  tone  of  the 
musical  progression  finds  a  resonator  in  the 
soul,  every  slightest  tendency  of  the  soul 
finds  firm,  supporting  arms  in  the  music, 
which  steady  it  and  lead  it  to  its  fullest  real- 
isation. Doubtless  it  is  this  arousal  and  fur- 
therance of  the  feelings,  this  reciprocity  of 
motion,  this  fluent  "give  and  take"  between 
the  feelings  and  the  musical  progressions, 
this  delightful  interplay  of  stimulation  and 
response,  on  which  the  expressionistic  thesis 
is  based.  But  it  is  not  necessary  at  present 
to  decide  on  the  legitimacy  of  its  conclu- 
sions. The  vital  pointJs,J±Lal.Jiie2:e-are_3zari- 
ous  kinds  of  expression,  and  that  the  art  of 
tones  may  conceivably  be  bound  to  observe 
one  kind,  and  not  the  others. 

It  would  now  be  in  order  to  prove  that  the 
actual  differences  of  opinion  have  arisen  from 
the  different  interpretations  of  the  word,  and 
that,  while  one  of  the  contending  parties 
^^  has  upheld  and  the  other  denied  ^theimpor- 
^i  tance  of  expression,  both  have  had  different 
kinds  of  expression  in  mind.     Let  us  begin 


'£<i'^ 


Emotions  in  Music  189 

with  Hanslick,  the  champ iaa„.Q£-4ormg:ltsm, 
and   examine   his   use   of   the   critical  word. 

The  subject  of  a  poem,  a  painting,  or  statue  [he 
says],  may  be  expressed  in  words  and  reduced  to 
ideas.  We  say,  for  instance,  this  picture  represents 
a  flower-girl,  this  statue  a  gladiator,  this  poem  one  of 
Roland's  exploits.  .  .  .  The  whole  gamut  of  human 
feelings  has  with  almost  complete  unanimity  been  pro- 
claimed to  be  the  subject  of  music.  .  .  .  According  to 
this  theory,  therefore,  sound  and  its  ingenious  com- 
binations are  but  the  material  and  the  medium  of 
expression,  by  which  the  composer  represents  love, 
courage,  piety,  and  delight.  .  .  .  The  beautiful  mel- 
ody and  the  skilful  harmony  as  ..such^-dja  not  charm, 
us,  but  only  what  they  imply :  the  whispering  of  love, 
or  the  clamour  of  ardent  combatants. ^ 

It  is  clear  that  Hanslick  is  using  the  word 
in  the  first  sense;  and  the  same  is  true  of 
that  other  keen  antagonist  of  the  expression- 
istic  theory,  Edmund  Gumey.  In  approach- 
ing the  subject  he  says : 

So  far  we  have  been  considering  Music  almost  en- 
tirely as  a  means  of  mpression.  .  .  .  We  have  now  to 
distinguish  this  aspect  of  it  from  another,  its  aspect 
as  a  means  of  expression,  of  creating  in  us  a  con- 
sciousness of  images,  or  of  ideas,  or  of  feelings,  which 
are  known  to  us  in  regions  outside  Music,  and  which 

>  Op.  cit.,  pp.  32  et  scq. 


190  The  Expression  of 

therefore  Music,  so  far  as  it  summons  them  up  within 
us,  may  be  fairly  said  to  express."  ^ 

Turning  to  the  other  side,  we  first  meet 
with  the  sesthetician  Hand.  In  his  treatise 
on  the  Esthetics  of  Musical  Art  he  devotes 
considerable  space  to  a  consideration  of  the 
relations  between  music  and  emotion.  There 
seems  to  be  no  exact  definition  of  the  word 
"expression,"  but  it  is  evident  that  his 
conception  of  it  is  radically  different  from 
that  of  Hanslick  and  Gurney.  Music,  he 
says, 

gives  only  feelings  and  inner  ^emotions — without 
signs  tTiat  may  be  inimLedTately  associated  with  an 
idea,  and  not  imitatively,  whereby  comparison  may 
be  made  with  an  original.  .  .  .  We  do  not  wish  to  per- 
ceive individual  things,  which,  for  the  most  part,  fall 
to  the  lot  of  sensuous  contemplation,  nor  does  thej^al 
listener  to  music  seek  for  a  translation  into  ideas.  .  .  . 
Truly  we  cannot  expect  objectiva- representations  in 
music,  but  only  inner  conditions  of  life,  and  even  these 
not  in  abstractions,  but  in  immediate  appearance,  and 
for  direct  transmission  into  other  souls.  The  excited 
and  moved  Hfe  of  him  who  sings  and  produces  music, 
propagates  itself,  exciting  and  moving,  into  the  soul 
of  the  listener,  and  a  more  intimate  conformity  and 
blending  is  not  possible.  .  .  .     The   play  of    tones 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  312. 


Emotions  in  Music  191 

transplants  us  into  the  same   state  of  feeling,  and 
thus  verifies  the  contents.^ 

Evidently  Hand  has  the  third  kind  of  ex- 
pression in  view.  His  remarks  about  "the 
moved  Ufe  of  him  who  produces  music  propa- 
gating itself,  exciting  and  moving,  into  the 
soul  of  the  listener,"  and  about  the  "play  of 
tones  transplanting  us  into  the  same  state  of 
feeling  and  thus  verifying  the  contents,"  ad- 
mit no  other  interpretation.  But  still  more 
certain  is  it  that  the  expression  he  claims 
for  music  is  not  of  the  first  kind,  dwelt  on 
by  the  formahsts.  His  divergence  from  the 
formalistic  position  is  emphasised  in  the  light 
of  two  statements  from  the  authors  before  con- 
sidered, the  first  from  Gurney  and  the  second 
from  Hanslick:  "However  impressive  a  phe- 
nomenon may  be  ...  we  have  no  right  to 
call  it  e^cpressive,  unless  we  can  say  what  it 
expresses" ;2  and  "The  query  'what'  is  the 
subject  of  music,  must  necessarily  be  answer- 
able in  words,  if  music  really  has  a  '  subject. '  "^ 
Remember  Hand's  contention  that  the  real 

t  Quoted  from  various  sections  of  the  translation  by  Walter 
E.  Lawson,  London,  1880. 
»  Op.  cit.,  p.  125. 
»  Op.  cit.,  p.  162. 


192  The  Expression  of 

listener  does  not  "seek  for  a  translation  into 
ideas,"  and  that  music  gives  feelings  and 
emotions  "without  signs  that  may  be  imme- 
diately associated  with  an  idea,  and  not 
imitatively,  whereby  comparison  may  be 
made  with  an  original," — and  the  conviction 
must  settle  upon  us  that  the  two  parties  are 
disputing  about  widely  different  things. 

But  Hand  is  not  alone  in  his  interpretation. 
According  to^  Ambros 

Music  conveys  moods  of  finished  expression;  it, 
as  it  were,  forces  them  upon  the  hearer.  It  conveys 
them  in  finished  form,,  because  it  possesses  no  means 
ior  expressing  the  previous  series  of  ideas  which  speech 
can.  clearly  and  deBhitely  expre^r\"rT~Now,  the  state 
of  mind  which  the  hearer  receives  from  music  he  transfers 
hack  to  it;  he  says:  "It  expresses  this  or  that  mood." 
Thus  music  receives  back  its  own  gift,  and  thus  we 
perceive  how  the  best  intellects  .  .  .  could  claim 
for  music,  as  a  fact  beyond  doubt,  so  to  speak,  the 
"expression  of  feelings."^ 

Again  it  is  the  third  meaning  on  which  the 
conclusion  is  based.  But  the  second,  too,  is 
sometimes  employed,  as  in  the  following 
quotation:    "The    musician    formulates    the 

«  The  Boundaries  of  Music  and  Poetry  (translated  by  J.  H. 
Cornell),  New  York,  1893,  p.  53. 


Emotions  in  Music  193 

direct  expression  of  man's  innermost  feelings 
and  sensibilities.  .  .  .  The  story  of  music 
has  been  that  of  a  slow  building  up  and  ex- 
tension of  artistic  means  of  formulating  ut- 
terances which  in  their  raw  state  are  direct 
expressions  of  feeling  and  sensibility."^  Al- 
though the  author  uses  the  term  "direct," 
he  is  not  referring  to  denotative  expression; 
the  connotative  nature  of  the  expression  is 
confirmed  a  moment  later,  when  the  "dog 
reiterating  short  barks  of  joy  at  the  sight  of  a 
beloved  friend  or  master"  is  instanced  as  a 
case  of  "direct"  expression. 

Is  it  a  wonder,  in  view  of  the  uncertain, 
shifting  nature  of  the  term,  that  disagree- 
ments and  controversies  should  result?  And 
is  it  not  evident  that  the  variety  of  interpre- 
tations is  to  blame  for  the  differences  of  opin- 
ion? Ordinarily,  of  course,  the  term  is  clear 
enough,  but  the  art  of  tones  seems  to  be  a 
"critical"  region,  where  the  meanings  separ- 
ate, and  where  the  most  divergent  results 
ensue  according  to  our  choice  of  signification. 

The  question  may  now  be  asked:  Which 
interpretation    is    the    most    proper;    which 

>  Parry,  The  Art  of  Music,  New  York,  1893,  p.  4. 
13 


194  The  Expression  of 

should  be  adopted  in  considering  the  problem  ? 
Sq Jar  ^asjthe-dignity  of  the  art  is  concerned, 
.-Ui-does^ot  matjterjvh^  There  seems'tobe' 
great  fear  in  some  quarters  that  the  adoption 
of  the  formalistic  conclusion  would  result 
in  the  despoliation  of  the  art.  Nothing  is 
further  from  the  truth.  MHsiG-will- r-etain 
its  intrinsic  value  no  matter  what  function 
we  may  theoretically  ascribe  to  it.  Further- 
more, there  may  be  representation  and  mean- 
ing even  though  the  tones  are  apparently 
devoid  of  these  qualities.  Money,  to  cite  an 
analogous  case,  is  generally  handled  without 
thought  of  its  significance,  yet  it  has  a  sig- 
nificance and  stands  for  extraneous  values. 
So  the  meaningless  tones,  likewise,  might  be 
expressive  of  deeper  things,  even  though  we 
were  not  clearly  aware  of  the  fact. 

Logically  it  seems  to  us  as  if  the  preference 
ought  to  be  given  to  the  first  interpretation 
rather  than  the  third.  If  asked  for  the  con- 
tent of  poetry  or  painting,  we  should  hardly 
refer  to  the  mental  and  emotional  states  they 
arouse,  but  to  the  thoughts  and  scenes  they 
directly  set  forth.  It  is  the  absence  of  such 
a  definite  content  in  music  that  draws  our 
attention  to  the  other  sort  of  expression — by 


Emotions  in  Music  195 

sympathetic  arousal — and  leads  us  to  regard 
music  as  an  embodiment  of  the  emotions. 
Poetry,  also,  might  be  considered  expressive 
in  this  sense;  the  feelings  which  it  arouses 
sway  along  with  the  words  in  the  same  way 
in  which  the  emotions  awakened  by  music 
follow  the  tones.  But  since  poetry  also  has 
its  direct,  denotative  expression,  we  pay 
attention  to  this  and  lose  sight  of  the  other. 
Suppose,  however,  that  instead  of  playing 
on  our  emotions  with  tales  of  love,  war, 
heroism,  and  the  like,  and  thus  conveying 
definite,  attention-absorbing  meanings,  it 
were  to  accomplish  this  end  by  symbolistic 
means,  by  verses  which,  although  without 
specific  meaning,  aroused  the  same  emotions 
as  the  significant  words, — some  of  the  atten- 
tion now  directed  to  the  content  of  the  words 
would  be  set  free,  the  fluctuation  of  the  feelings 
would  obtrude  itself,  and  poetry,  like  music, 
might  also  come  to  be  regarded  as  an  art  which 
had  the  feelings  for  its  subject-matter,  and 
whose  function  it  was  to  express  these  feelings. 
Yet  it  would  have  gained  this  function  by 
a  loss  rather  than  an  addition  of  content, — 
by  the  loss,  namely,  of  those  definite  ideas 
which    at    present    it    embodies.     Music,    it 


196  Emotions  in  Miisic 

seems,  corresponds  to  such  a  denuded  poetry, 
divested  of  definite  meanings  and  producing 
its  effects  by  apparently  empty  figures.  If 
we  are  to  adhere  to  a  single  point  of  view, 
valid  in  every  art,  we  are  bound  to  say  that 
music  expresses  nothing  and  has  no  contents 
in  the  sense  in  which  this  can  be  affirmed  of 
the  other  arts. 

However,  an  author  has  a  right  to  use  his 
terms  in  any  legitimate  sense;  and  if  it  pleases 
him  to  attach  another  meaning  to  the  word 
expression,  we  have  no  alternative  but  to  fol- 
low him  and  judge  of  his  statements  from  his 
own  point  of  view.  The  important  point  to 
be  established  is  that  there  are  different  points 
of  view,  and  that  the  differences  of  opinion 
are  due  to  this  fact.  So  much,  we  hope,  has 
been  accomplished.  The  formalists,  we  have 
seen,  are  right  when  they  maintain  that  music 
need  not  be  expressive  in  the  sense  ofaTdigfiiTrte 
portrayal  or  denotation;  and  the  expregsion- 
ists  may  be  right  when  they  insist  that_it_ 
shall  awaken,  nurture,  and  harnionise_  with 
the  feelings,  and  thus  express  them  by  coii-^ 
tagion  or  sympathetic  arousal. 


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